


The Twelve Days of Cheesemas by Dean Fucking Winchester

by Elizabeth1985



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bonus Kink Chapter -- See Notes, Christmas Fluff, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Sex, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Netflix and Chill, Rimming, The Twelve Days of Christmas, Where Dean is influenced by Christmas music to confess his love for Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:43:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 65,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5405210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth1985/pseuds/Elizabeth1985
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean makes a damn big decision under the duress of festive cheer. And he figures, if he's gonna bust out the 'I love you' business, he's going all out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Decisions Are Made Under Festive Duress

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to me awesome beta [Tennyo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/pseuds/Tennyo)  
> Each following chapter will be posted on the exact days Dean unfolds the next part of his plan for Cas. The last chapter will be posted on Christmas day!

It started with a song he heard on the radio. Some terrible rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas belted out by some struggling young pop star. It was sad, but it gave him the idea. The stupid, stupid idea that he’d possibly regret come December 25th.

See, Christmas had never been a big thing for Dean and his brother. There was always something looming on the horizon to strip them of any desire to be festive. This year wasn’t really different. Some big bad evil was getting ready to kill them, or one of them was on the verge of turning psychotic for some reason or another.

No biggie. Business as usual, really.

But as Dean laid against the solid wood headboard of his bed listening to the high-pitched verse, “ _On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me … three French Hens, Two Turtle Doves, and a Paaaartridge in a Pear Treeeeeee,”_ he had a sudden inclination to one-up the familiar tune.

Seriously though, who the fuck wanted so many goddamn birds? And milking maids, leaping lords? Who wrote this crap, he wondered?

Maybe the song writer’s intended was a farmer and had a penchant for grandiose gestures.

Man, if he were doling out 12 days of goodies to a “True Love” he wouldn’t be offering up such bizarre presents.

It would be more like: Food, movies, beer, bringing that person to their favourite place in the whole world, saying things he’d never say otherwise, or maybe doing things he’d never do otherwise. Those were real gifts. None of this Geese’a’laying stupidity.

His fingers played with the smooth edges of his phone, and then traced up the cord of the headphones that carried the radio’s deluge of Christmas cheer to his ears.

If he wanted to, what gifts would he truly offer? And to whom?

Dean’s mind pondered on it, as it did other things. Like, how could he defeat the elusive ‘Darkness’ when deep in his bones he felt the need to protect the essence of it? And he wondered also about Lucifer and Sam’s assurance that God was telling him the answer to the problems they faced.

And he thought about Cas, doing whatever down the hall. Sure as anything else, the ones he loved were here in this bunkered-up little hideaway. But as far as the concept of having a True Love was concerned, Dean was batting zero.

Of course, there were these occasional tempestuous notions that were often hard to ignore. It aggravated him because he couldn’t escape it.

These nagging … _desires_ , one might say. Much like the tune and the twelve days concept, the stages of his emotional spiral had about the same number of steps. Step one: the flicker of attraction. Step two: massive denial. Step three: inappropriate dreams. Step four: Trust…

And on it went. Each progression dug deeper into his soul and he wasn’t normally one to admit that something, _or someone_ , had profoundly affected him. But in this case, it was impossible to lie to himself.

And, fuck, had he tried. Tried for years.

Until he had reached the inevitable Step 12: You’re in love asshole and it hurts like a motherfucker.

A few more Christmas songs hummed into his ears as he sat there and let his mind gloss over the revelations that had come a long time ago.

Not once had he allowed himself to give in to the idea of, ‘Hey! Maybe it _can_ work.’

But for reasons unknown, this year, this … impending Christmas, he felt a strange spark inside of him. Maybe because this year _he_ was here.

And no, not Santa. Though, how awesome would it be if Santa were legit. Cause shit, he could use some new boxers and the only belt he owned was smeared with blood.

But even better than mysteriously left Christmas presents, was the gift of the man down the hall that was everything he wouldn’t let himself want. Or, at least, only in the quietest moments with himself did he linger on the dream.

Castiel, for all intents and purposes, was the embodiment of Dean’s humanity. How it had come to be that way, he wasn’t all that sure. Perhaps it was because Cas had always tried to do right by him, believed in him, stood by him when the world came crashing down. As it did so frequently.

Whenever he made a wrong choice, one of the few thoughts that dragged in the back of his mind like a hangnail was always, ‘But what will Cas think of me?’

His thoughts tripped up when Mariah Carey’s famous version of _All I Want (for christmas) is You_ started to play loud and chirper through his headphones, that even in his mildly dejected state gave him the urge to dance just a little.

Of _all_ the songs that could’ve played in this moment, he thought sarcastically, it freaking had to be that one. A small chuckle escaped him and he threw his head back against the wood and sighed.

But it brightened his current state of mind. And Dean played with the notion that, _if_ Cas were indeed his ‘True Love’ (and that’s a big if), what twelve potential gifts would he ever give the guy? His own Netflix subscription? Dean smiled with his eyes closed and pictured Cas cuddled up beside him watching a marathon of Christmas movies.

What a dream, huh? Cheesy and expected, but amazing all the same.

The way he craved it, yearned for something so simple, tore at him. Because some days living the life he lived really sucked. And it was dangerous and painful and unpredictable. Toying with the idea of domestic heaven for even a moment was the worst kind of tease.

He _wanted_ it.

It was Christmas, and he wanted the possibility. Even if it burned like everything else in his life that he loved. He wanted to know that, maybe, it was more than some vague dream.

Maybe it was time to open that door. Or at least, give it a gentle nudge with his foot.

Could he suck up his own cowardice at the thought of it going bad? For the sake of getting even a single moment of what he wanted. Could he handle that?

In a sudden moment where he was sure his stomach pulled a three-sixty in his gut, Dean concluded that _yes_ , for the possibility of maybe getting one minute of happiness with Cas, he could take the leap.

Holy shit.

Chasing that motherfucker of a decision, Dean felt a powerful surge of determination and fear. He’d gone and done it. Here and now, listening to the radio, doing nothing much at all, he went and dove off a cliff without a whole lot of preemptive thought. Fucking Christmas music.

And, ya know what, he would stick with it. Dean nodded to no one and began to chew his lower lip. Okay, so it was seriously happening, he resolved.

For real.

Dean was going to be _that_ guy. He was gonna be the one to pull some grand gesture and profess his undying love on fucking Christmas. Because for all his flaws, he wasn’t short-changing Cas on this one. If he was gonna bust out the ‘I love you’ shit, it was happening with some fucking flair.

Something along the lines of: The Twelve Days of ‘You Are My Everything’ by Dean _fucking_ Winchester. Followed by a rendition of ‘All I Want for Christmas is Your Gorgeous Ass in My Bed’.

So what if the world was on the verge of taking a nosedive. Yet again.

Declarations of love shouldn’t have to wait for chaos to settle. And besides, at the rate they were going, it never would settle.

On that note, Dean pulled out the earphones and placed his phone on the other side of the bed and got up to find a piece of paper to begin his plan.

He clicked the button on the top of the pen and poised the tip to the pad of paper he’d found in his nightstand.

“On the first day of Christmas,” he said, writing as he spoke. “I give my true love… the gift of music.” Dean cocked his head and added, “Mostly because his taste sucks ass but whatever.”


	2. On The First Day of Cheesemas, Let There Be Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things don’t go according to the plan. And sometimes that’s kind of awesome. Or more accurately, Dean thinks he's super sly and realizes he's definitely not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's Cheesemas Playlist for Cas is at the end :)

It was backwards, Dean knew that. But he wanted to end his extravagant super-cheeseball plan on Christmas Day, which meant the First Day of Christmas (or Cheesemas, as he intended to call it) had to be December 14th.

Dean had chosen the gift of music to start things off. It was friendly, not overly declaratory. A subtle prelude of what would come.

At least, he’d thought it was subtle. Turns out, maybe not so much.

The songs were chosen with painstaking awareness for every lyric and tone. It had to _mean_ something. It had to be songs he enjoyed, songs he thought Cas might enjoy, and there had to be something about the words that would hint or resonate about all the love crap he was gonna be unloading in an organized and timely manner. Not every song was perfect, unfortunately. He couldn't avoid the occasional 'she' pronouns or the ill-fitted lyrics here and there.  

Dean debated the idea of telling Sam. But, in the end, he wanted to maintain some level of privacy. Having Cas slowly become aware of his feelings wasn’t the same if his brother was gawking at every step along the way.

It had taken him six days to put the playlist together. And another three hours after that to figure out how to make a CD out of it. And then he’d stared at the reflective disc for ten minutes and wondered if he should write something on it.

_Merry Christmas, Cas … PS, I want to metaphorically have your babies._

In the end, he chose to write, _Merry Xmas, Cas._ And he drew a Christmas tree on it in green permanent marker. It had a star at the top and everything.

There were, appropriately, twelve songs on the CD. Ranging from Whitesnake to fucking Adele, and a little Bon Jovi and ZZ Top in the mix there too.

Dean decided not to wrap it. It wasn’t technically Christmas, after all.

Holding the CD by the edges, he stood and approached his door with a sense of fear not unlike the way he felt walking into a vampire den.

It wasn’t a far trip. About eight feet.

Dean knocked and swallowed thickly as he waited for Cas to answer.

Emerging from inside the room, Dean’s former guardian angel opened the door and took a step into the hallway.

“Do you need something?”

Shaking his head, Dean looked down at the floor to collect himself and then met Cas’ eyes. “No, I, uh, just wanted to give you something—“

Dean held out the CD, waiting not-so-patiently for Cas to take it and say something.

“What is this?”

“I made you a CD.”

“Of?”

“Songs, dummy. Christmas is coming up and you’ve been way too heavily addicted to Netflix, so I figured you could switch it up. Anyway, just some of my favourite tunes. No biggie. Here—“

Again, he held it out. Cas took it and stared at the disc for a curious moment before he narrowed his eyes at Dean. “You made this?”

“Well, it’s not like I built you a rocket ship, man.” Just poured my heart and soul into it, but who’s counting. “I hit some buttons on the computer. Anyway, uh, enjoy and whatnot.”

Dean scratched his head nervously and turned on his heel, marching his nervous ass all the way back to his room. Giving the CD wasn’t even the hard part, it was facing Cas after knowing he’d listened to it.

What would Cas think after the first song? The concept of making a mixed CD for someone wasn’t inherently an indication that the CD maker _loves_ the CD receiver. Although, Dean began to sweat, he hadn’t exactly been subtle about the song choices. The opening track was Bad Company’s _Ready for Love._ It seemed appropriate. After that, it was a little more varied. Some songs were reminiscent of tunes he’d fucked to back in the days. Others had the soft cadence of slow songs he would’ve danced to in freshman year, had he gone to any of the dances.

For a moment, he stood in his room with wide eyes debating whether he should race back to Cas’ room, barge through the door and take the CD back before it could be played.

He took a breath. “Be cool, man. S’all good.” Dean encouraged himself to remember that Cas had _some_ sort of feelings for him. There was no absolute certainty to the knowledge. It’s not as if Cas had come right out and said it. But the angel wasn’t exactly swimming in subtleties either.   

Moving onto his bed, he pulled out the folded paper that had his twelve step confession scribbled on it and struck out the first line. The following eleven items were mostly random and some had been edited with extra notes, or scratched off the list when a better idea had presented itself.

After going over it for the hundredth time, he folded it back up and placed it inside his nightstand.

Around nine that night, he left his room for some food and to grab a few books from their plentiful wealth of old literature to do some research on the current shitstorm they were in. Because as much as he would love to call it quits for the next eleven days, it just wasn’t an option.

In the kitchen, he set up the coffee pot and hit the brew button before making his way to the fridge. Inside, he scoured the contents for something worthy of his grumbling stomach.

Dean rubbed his palm across the smooth, less defined than before, expanse of his abs. As he came up with a big fat nada, he shut the door and opened the freezer.

Frozen pizza it is.

Dean preheated the oven, set the pizza on a tray, and poured himself some coffee while waiting for the oven to reach a toasty 375. In the meantime, he leaned over the metal table in the centre of the room and wondered if Cas was listening to the CD right that second.

What song would be playing? Would he listen to it more than once? Were there songs that he might hate?

Asking all those questions was a fruitless endeavor. It only made his muscles twitch with anxiety.

The oven beeped and he rounded towards it, grabbing the metal tray on his way.

Dean was in the middle of setting the timer when Cas interrupted him.

“Are you busy?”

Ignoring the way his heart picked up pace, Dean finished what he was doing and turned around to face the entrance to the kitchen.

“Uh, just making pizza. What’s up?”

Cas smiled and walked further into the room. “I’ve been listening to the CD you made.”

Unable to speak, Dean settled for raising his eyebrows as a gesture to go on.

“The songs you chose are…” Cas hesitated, his words losing traction. Finally, he fixated on Dean’s still gaze and said, “I love it.”

With a twitchy kind of smirk, Dean replied, “You’re welcome. Do you, uh, have a favourite at all?”

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Cas looked up at the ceiling as he pondered the question.

“Some. Yes.” Cas told him, his answer notably vague.

“Good. So, what are your plans now?”

“That depends,” said Cas.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “On?”

“Well, I was planning to join you in whatever you were going to do.”

“The agenda is pizza, and then research. Not real glamourous, Cas.”

Surprising him, Cas walked towards him and only stopped when he was close enough to take the mug of black coffee from Dean’s hand. As he brought the edge to his lips, he looked over the rim and said, “That’s fine. So it’s a date then?” And the way his mouth curved into a sly smile had Dean wondering just how bold his song choices had been.

Part of his twelve step plan was a slow build of awareness. Maybe he’d fucked it up already and laid out his cards too soon.

Although, Cas was weird. So there was that. Dean opted to ignore the slight teasing smile and replied, “Uh, sure. Are you giving that back or should I pour another cup?”

Cas swallowed another sip and then smiled. “No, I’ll keep this one if you don’t mind.”

As Dean moved to get another cup for himself, he said, “It’s risky of you. I could have cooties ya know.”

“I doubt your germs would do me much harm.”

Grinning, Dean sipped from his freshly poured cup and checked on the pizza. Another ten minutes and it would be done.

“Probably not,” he answered. This talk of sharing germs made him think about having his tongue in Cas’ mouth.

After ten more tense minutes, the timer graciously beeped and let him turn away from the staring contest and odd small talk that had sprung up to pass the time.

Dean got both of them set up with a plate; two slices each and they walked together back out into the main room.

Sam, he knew, was hunkered down in his room with his own piles of research and might join them at some point but Dean was happy to have it be just the two of them.

They ate the pizza, drank their coffee, and turned the pages of books set out in front of them. Two hours or more may have gone by before Cas’ voice disturbed the quiet settled between them.

“Dean?”

Without looking up, Dean hummed as a response, his eyes following through a confusing paragraph.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.” Dean’s attention remained locked on the words lined up on the page that were supposed to allude to something. Sometimes he wondered what doped up crackhead wrote this bullshit.

“Have you watched a lot of Netflix?”

Hearing the question in a distant kind of way, he answered automatically, “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m assuming all the ones that are listed as _Continue Watching for Dean_ means you’ve seen them, correct?”

Where this line of questioning was going, he never would have imagined. So, like a total moron, he just kept nodding and mm-hmm’ing as he read about complex theories surrounding ‘A Dark Time in History’ that he hoped related to their current predicament.

“So, you’ve seen Sense8? The one where people share minds. It’s in your list.”

Again, Dean hummed and added, “Uh, yeah, not a bad a show. A little lax on explanations about the whole mind-sharing bizz, but it’s alright. Why?”

It took him three convoluted paragraphs before he realized Cas hadn’t said anything. He looked up to find an inquisitive stare pinned on him. “What?” he shot out.

“It’s just … one of the songs on the CD,” Cas diverted his gaze to the table and continued, “plays on that show. It’s a, um, a fairly poignant scene, I suppose. I’m just wondering if you knew the song beforehand or you liked it because of the show?”

After corralling his thoughts into order, Dean looked back at Cas and realized the song Cas was referring to was the one that played during the super hot orgy scene. And yes, Dean had chosen quite carefully on that one. Dean wrestled with an appropriate reply.

“Not sure. Probably heard it somewhere before. I dunno, it’s good, though. You like it?”

Cas shifted in his chair. “Yes.”

Oh, what do you know? Dean was finding his jeans suddenly tight. “Perfect. I’ll just continue reading this absolutely bullshit excuse for a book then.” He smiled and refocused on the text.

On the opposite side of the table, he watched from the upper field of his vision as Cas opened up his laptop—Sam had gotten him his own shortly after he moved in.

Well, Dean corrected, Sam _stole_ the laptop shortly after Cas moved in. Potayto, Potahto.

After a decisive clack on the thing, the slow beginnings of the song in question began to play. It didn’t exactly help his situation.

Was this on purpose, he wondered?

If Cas was already in the know, why the song and dance? Or in this case, the song at least.

It was turned up loud enough. And it filled the room with a toxic degree of sexual tension. Dean had a feeling he was being played.

But that was okay. He wasn’t deviating from his Twelve Days of Cheesemas plan.

The Winchesters had always been plagued by bad endings. For once, he was forcing things to go his way. He’d made a decision after all. And dammit, he was sticking to it.

When the bass and tempo of the song increased, Dean wondered about the parameters of his scheduled divulging of emotions.

Perhaps instead of a stealthy approach, he could read the signs staring him in the face from across the table and kick things up a notch.

Hmm, but how?

Dean mentally ticked through the remaining eleven days’ tasks or gifts, depending on the day. Penciled in for tomorrow was a shopping expedition. Cas was in bad need of new duds.  Unlike the CD apparently, he was certain the visit to some mall would be considered nothing more than casual.

But maybe it didn’t have to be. Maybe none of his remaining list items did. He’d have to tweak some things just a bit.

The end would still be the same. No matter what happened between now and then, he was reserving those three life-changing words for Christmas day.

Dean closed the book with a snap and lifted his eyes so that they settled on Cas. It didn’t surprise him that Cas was already looking.

Abruptly, the song ended. But two seconds later, it began again. Which was odd, because Cas hadn’t touched the computer. Meaning the song had already been set to repeat.

Wasn’t that all kinds of interesting.

Dean smiled knowingly.

Cas smiled back.

Okay, the gig was up. He was seeing that. Apparently, he wasn’t as clever as he believed himself to be.

“I guess you really like that song,” he teased.

“It has an effect on me, yes.”

Makes two of us, he was tempted to say. But this sudden game between them was cranking his gears and he felt the need to phrase some witty retort. In the end, all he managed was, “It’s what I was aiming for.”

“When you made the CD?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“To … affect me?”

Taking a deep breath, Dean met his sharp blue eyes and said, “That’s one way to look at it. I prefer to see it as a prelude.” Because that’s what the CD was meant to be. The hints of a possible beginning. Ballads about love and being ready and devotion.

Guess his attempt at _hinting_ about all that had failed miserably.  

“A prelude to what?” asked Cas suspiciously, his eyes shifting to the computer briefly as he no doubt scanned the titles of each song. Christ, that had to be as obvious as a slap to the face.

“To an idea,” he answered succinctly.

Tonight was veering off course from what he’d expected, and though he was committed to roll with it and not be overly obtuse. Dean wasn’t prepared to unveil the whole kit and caboodle though. Maybe just the caboodle.

“About?” Cas pressed on.

Dean sighed and stood from his chair. As he walked around to where Cas sat in front of the computer, he spoke, “You ever make a decision on a whim and then you set up this grand ol’ plan to execute said decision, and then suddenly there’s a new twist in the mix and you’re left kind of … floundering?”

He’d finished his circuit around the table and was now hovering a half a foot from Cas’ seated form in the chair swiveled out to face him.

Cas raised his chin. “I’m becoming more confused by the minute, Dean, what are you talking about?”

“The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Or Cheesemas as he thought of it.

“Dean,” Cas groaned his name with impatience.

“Look, here’s the thing, I have a plan, okay? I’m getting the impression you’re picking up on where this is going and that’s fine. I mean, well, as long as you’re… uhh, amenable to said plan. But you need to let me do my thing, is that cool with you?”

For a strained suspended moment, Dean watched an array of expressions flicker across Cas’ face. Half of what he saw, he was unable to define. All those hidden thoughts were too mingled to read. It made him antsy.

“And what if I’m _not_ picking up on where this is going?” he asked, squinting at Dean.

Dean didn’t hesitate. “Stand up.”

It was quick, but he caught the flash of anticipation that lit up Cas’ whole demeanor. Dean couldn’t help but grin. He’d made assumptions about Cas’ feelings in all this, but it was nice to know for sure.

“What are you going to do?”

“Prelude,” Dean muttered and gave a little shrug.

Stowing his nerves, he framed Cas’ face with his hands and pulled him close. At the last second he stopped, their lips frustratingly close. So close he almost lost the self control he’d built up for this.

It was shadowed in the narrow space that separated them, and he felt the sharp errant breaths that flowed hot against his tongue.

“Dean?” It was a soft utterance of his name. So torturously unsure but anxious all the same.

“I’ve made a decision,” announced Dean.

As they stood stiff, staring at each other, the song seemed to get louder as if it was urging him to take the plunge that very moment. Stupid songs, and stupid shows playing them during hot orgy scenes, picking away at his self control.

Man, Cas smelled good.

“Um, does this decision involve … proximity?” Cas glanced between them and back up to Dean’s no doubt dreamy, unfocused green eyes. “Dean?”

Oh, right. They were having a monumental conversation.

“Damn right,” he said.

Throwing some swagger into his grin, he waited for Cas to react. And he was not disappointed. Cas’ mouth fell open and he pushed against Dean’s restraining palms just slightly. Enough to be clear as fucking glass. Hell yes. 

“Now?”

God, it _was_ tempting. But he had a plan for fucks’ sake. Dean was going to be grand and suave and all that shit. And super suaveness was only achieved through time and his list. _He had to stick with the list!_ And okay, so the list might have been mentally amended a bit throughout the course of this conversation, but it would’ve been pretty poor execution if he fast forwarded straight to the ending.

“Not just yet.”

At least, not the good stuff. Dean was crazy not to let himself have a little something. It was the great and wonderful Cheesemas. A man was allowed to indulge.

“But maybe…” he trailed off, his focus drawn to Cas’ mouth.

Dean lessened the gap between them a fraction more, enough for his lips to feel the dampness of Cas’ breath. Holding Cas still, Dean brushed the tip of his nose across Cas’, his thumbs swiping over his cheeks and memorizing the stubble that scratched against his skin.

Some might say it was a nuzzle. And they’d be right. But Dean didn’t care how he acted around Cas, only that whatever he did was the best expression of how he felt. To be fair, part of how he felt was a severe case of raging arousal … but he was keeping a tight lid on that.

It would have been so easy to angle his head just a smidge. To guide his lips where they wanted to be. Easy as pie. But there was something great about a good build up. Maybe, in the end, he’d be teasing them both. Cruelly. But he was certain it'd be worth it.

When he felt Cas push towards him, he laughed, breaking the strange spell of the moment. “I have a plan, man, you need to chill.”

Cas reached between them and grabbed fistfuls of Dean’s button-up. “Is your plan to kill me slowly?”

Chuckling again, he let his hands fall over Cas’ shape; down his neck, over his shoulders, and then skimming over the length of his arms until he found his fingers reaching for Cas’.

“No,” he said, staring down at the way he’d taken Cas’ hand naturally in his. “Let me do what I need to do. Alright?”

“Fine. But I take it part of your plan didn’t include this.” He squeezed Dean’s hand as an indication of what he meant.

Dean shook his head, but he was sporting a grin. “Not exactly. I thought I was being sly and shit.”

With sarcastic flair, Cas angled his head, pegging Dean with a look. “Really?” He then reached over to up the sound already blaring from the laptop. He spared one look for the list and selected a song.

 _Lay Your Hands on Me_ by Bon Jovi started playing.

“Fair enough,” he allowed.

“Dean, why now?”

He tsked back at Cas. “Oh no, not _now._ Remember?” In a teasing, timely manner.

“I’m serious. What changed?”

Dean held his stare and shrugged. A smile overtook his expression. “It’s Christmas,” he replied, tapping Cas on the chin. “Now, you listen to your expertly crafted playlist, and I’m gonna go do some research.”

Quickly, he piled some books into his arms and started to walk away. As he was just about to turn down the hall, he looked back over his shoulder, “Oh, by the way, tomorrow we’re going shopping.”

“For what?”

“Whatever you want.”

Dean continued to wear the smile plastered to his face the whole way back to his room, and it didn’t seem to fade much as he started research either.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Ready for love - Bad Company  
> 2\. Simple man - Lynyrd Skynyrd  
> 3\. No one like you - Scorpions  
> 4\. Demons (feat. Macy Gray) - Fatboy Slim  
> 5\. I'm burning for you - Blue Oyster Cult  
> 6\. Is this love - Whitesnake  
> 7\. Gimme all your lovin' - ZZ Top  
> 8\. Lay your hands on me - Bon Jovi  
> 9\. Take me to church - Hozier  
> 10\. I miss you - Adele  
> Let me know what you think about Day One!  
> 11\. Nothing else matters - Metallica  
> 12\. Always - Bon Jovi


	3. On The Second Day of Cheesemas, Let There be Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes Cas shopping for new clothes. He learns two things. One: Cas looks fucking hot in plaid. And two: Dean's thoughts aren't quite as private as he thought they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, the next chapter...

At eleven, Dean knocked on Cas’ door.

The angel emerged a bit ruffled. Hair puffed out at various angles, eyes slightly droopy. It was all around an excellent image. Pretty well Cas’ ‘I’ve-been-in-bed-watching-Netflix-for-hours’ look. Dean was only slightly concerned. Either way, he hoped to see more of the just-out-of-bed look as time went by.

But there was a plan. He must follow the plan.

“Rise’n’shine. It’s time to shop.”

“But I don’t need anything.”

“Duh. No one really _needs_ anything. This is about what you want. Clothes, or whatever. I don’t know.”

As he waited for Cas to say something, he didn’t hide the way his eyes scanned over his friend. All Cas had on was a thin t-shirt and boxers. For chrissake, Dean could see his nipples through the plain white tee.

“You’re staring,” Cas noted.

“Since apparently I’m not subtle, I decided I could stare.”

Cas blushed and glanced down at his meager attire. “Well, I don’t look very stare-worthy. Let me get dressed and you can proceed with this plan of yours.”

Before he could turn back into the room, Dean shot his hand out and snatched Cas by the shoulder. “Hey,” he said firmly, “I’m staring because you look _better_ than good. And very, _very_ stare-worthy.”

“Um, okay.” Cas scratched his head and gave Dean a funny look. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“This whole thing … this _plan_ … and how you’re acting. And last night…" Cas started gesturing with his hands. "I’m reasonably confounded. I spent half the night thinking it was a joke, or that you’d been possessed. I’m still not sure I’m wrong.”

That was understandable. “Promise I’m not possessed. Like I said, I made a decision. Just roll with it.”

“Okay.”

Cas shut the door and came back out ten minutes later wearing his go-to getup of dress pants, white shirt, and beige trenchcoat.

It was _his_ thing and while Dean had a sweet spot for the ensemble, Cas deserved more than one outfit and his and Sam’s occasional hand-me-downs.

It was a shame he hadn’t turned the CD into a cassette tape. Otherwise, they could’ve listened to it on the way to the mall. And yeah, he was going to a mall.

Man, if he didn’t already know he was in love with Cas, that was a pretty good indicator.

The first stop was a casual rugged clothing place that had a lot of fleeces and stiff jeans. Every item was marked by a mountainous logo. Dean picked up a few things, moving efficiently through the store, and shoved Cas into a changing room with a pile up to his chin. Pacing between the dark grey doors, he waited. Five minutes ticked by.

Dean rapped his knuckle on the door, too impatient not to pester. “Any luck?”

There was a muffled response he couldn’t quite make out.

“Can I come in?”

“I’m—“ A startling bang erupted from behind the door, followed by a curse.

Knowing Cas probably wouldn’t have slid the lock over, he turned the handle and went in. And then he laughed. Oh god, he laughed _hard_!

“What the hell?” he asked through giggles, eyeing Cas up and down.

Cas stood in the middle of the small change room with a red sweater rucked up tight around his chest, his arms sticking into the air uselessly, the rest of the clearly too-tight sweater wrapped around his head and shoulders. Cas' failed attempt to crawl out of the garment also had the effect of his white t-shirt underneath getting halfway pulled off too. There was laughter trickling past Dean's lips, but it was dying off pretty damn quick.

“Stop making fun of me,” Cas threatened. “Get it off.”

Dean chuckled and scanned the man standing helpless before him. “You’re an angel—can’t you just mojo your way out of the thing?”

Beneath the thick weave, Castiel groaned. “I _could_ , but it seems excessive to waste my powers over such a minor nuisance.”

“Or,” he teased, “you just want me to undress you.” Dean moved closer and plucked at the tight edges of the knit straight-jacket.

Cas stayed quiet.

Finding himself entranced, Dean let his finger slide down Cas’ partly bared chest and watched the way his naked stomach flexed as he went by. Ah, fuck. “Goddammit Cas, I have a freakin’ plan here.” A plan that did _not_ include keeping Cas trapped and Dean having his way with him. Though, what a damn good idea that was.

“A plan to get me out of this sweater I hope.”

Dean laughed and shook his head. He gripped the lower edges of the restrictive garment, peeling away the t-shirt, and started prying. Fucking thing was tight. How the hell had Cas even gotten it on this far? Dean wrenched it up enough to reveal the lower half of Cas’ face. Nice soft lips and some sexy stubble.

Mmm. That was tempting.

After an appreciative pause, he grudgingly continued to pull the thing off and only stopped when it was shoved up to Cas' forearms—still high over his head. Still trapped and at Dean's mercy.

All that tugging and shoving had gotten him right up in Cas' space. A little too close considering that if he were to go and pop an erection, Cas would probably feel it—despite the restrictive, non-boner-friendly jeans Dean was wearing. He'd deny it later, but a small whimper escaped him.

“Is this shopping excursion going as planned?” Cas smirked.

Dean cursed and let his head fall into the warm space by Cas’ throat. “No.” Really, really not.

“In this grand scheming plan of yours, at what point do you plan to kiss me?”

Raising his head, Dean stared into Cas’ breathtaking blue eyes and sucked back a steady breath. “I _was_ planning it for somewhere near the end of all this but—”

“Please don’t tell me this plan is a month long endeavor?”

“Maybe I can… change things up a little.”

“I’m listening,” prompted Cas, quietly struggling as he remained trapped against the back wall of the change room.

None of this act got past Dean. Cas was stronger than the Hulk, he could overpower Dean in a second. But he didn’t. Somehow that was huge turn-on.

There was no use in trying to make mental amendments to his list; he barely had the capacity to think proper words. Whatever tumbled through his mind was nothing more than insignificant details his senses picked up on. Dean drifted closer towards the warmth of Cas’ body, taking deep breaths as he did.

“You smell good,” he murmured in a daze.

“Thank you. Dean, are we planning to stay in here forever ... _or_?”

With a groan, he finally shoved himself back and roughly yanked the remaining encumbrance of the sweater from Cas’ arms. The angel was left in a t-shirt and one of the pairs of jeans Dean had sent him in with.

Glancing down, Dean checked them off as a definite yes. Snug around the angel's hips, sitting low enough to be enticing, straight lines and not too long. They weren’t tight, but fit the way a man’s jeans should _._ Unlike most of Cas’ previous wardrobe.

“At least the jeans look good.”

“They’re stiff.”

“All jeans are stiff. You just need to wear them in. Best advice is not to wash them for as long as you can.”

As much as he would’ve liked to stay while Cas changed back into his clothes, he was a freaking gentlemen and stepped out into the hall.

They went to four more stores before Cas began to lose his patience. But by then, Dean had stocked him with a pair of jogging pants (which Dean would thereafter refer to as his Netflix uniform), a couple plaid button-ups from American Eagle, some boxers, socks, a sweater that fit and finally a jacket that didn’t look stolen from Mr. Gadget.

Dean kind of wanted the new jacket for himself. The fitted, hip-length black wool had wide flat hems, a sturdy black zipper up the front and a military-style collar.

At the last store, he’d demanded Cas change into some of his new stuff. As he waited on one of the hard benches, his foot bounced on the carpet, eager to get a load of Cas’ new getup.

Dean was _so_ not disappointed.

Stepping from the room and standing tall in front of him, Cas was the picture of masculine sexiness. Something Dean was surprised to find got him all kinds of hot and definitely bothered.

The fitted dark jeans from before. A purple and blue plaid button up over a plain white tee, and that damn jacket.

“I may need to toss my list into a fire when we get home,” he stated.

“There’s an actual list?” Cas raised his eyebrows.

Dean made a face. “Shut up. C’mon, we’ll stop for food on the way back.”

As they were walking to the car a few minutes later, Dean put in a call to Sam to get his grub order.

“Be quick, Sammy: Burgers or Pizza?”

“Where are you?” asked Sam. Dean was, at the moment, unlocking the car and helping Cas shove the bags into the backseat.

“Cas and I robbed a bank, what’s it to you?”

Castiel rolled his eyes as he walked to the passenger side and Dean winked at him.

“Oddly,” Sam started, “that wouldn’t shock me. And, get me a salad of some kind.”

Dean groaned and surely his brother could anticipate what was coming. “Dude it’s the burger joint or Pizza-Pizza, and neither of them have salads, man. Get off your veggie high-horse and make a real man’s order here or you’re gettin’ zilch.”

“Fine. Pizza then. With onions, green peppers, mushrooms, and tomatoes.”

“Dude. Not even a little bacon?”

The line went dead. Dean shrugged and plopped his phone on the seat between he and Cas. He looked over and did quick once-over on the new look.

“I like it.”

Cas bit his lip and turned to the window, his eyes following the crappy scenery as Dean steered them out of the parking lot. “I’m still worried you’re possessed.”

Dean laughed. “Then how come you’re not dousing me in holy water or exorcising me?”

“Because I’m an Angel, Dean, and despite my mind telling me you’re acting wildly out of character, I can still see your soul.”

Snorting, Dean shot him a look across the seat. “Oh, geez. Stop creepin’ on my innards will ya?”

“Your _innards_ are not the same as your soul, I sincerely hope you know that.”

“Yeah well. Still creepy.”

“Fine. But you’re still being uncharacteristically upbeat, and bordering on hopeful.”

Dean gaped. “And that’s _bad_?!”

“No!” Cas said quickly. “Of course it isn’t. But last week you were drinking every day non-stop and grousing over the current predicament. And generally, being more cantankerous than normal. Why else do you think I was avoiding you.”

Shit. Cas had been purposely steering clear? Good god, was he really that bad?

“Yes,” Cas said immediately, his eyes trained forward.

Dean hit the brakes and swerved to the side of the road. “Hold up. Did you just sneak a peek inside my head?”

Cas glanced down into his lap and then tentatively raised his eyes to Dean. “Um. I probably shouldn’t answer that.”

Dean’s eyes shot wide open and his mouth started to say ‘What?’ but his voice cracked and he only managed a, “Whaa?”

“It’s nothing exactly groundbreaking.”

“Uh, yeah it is!” blasted Dean. “Explain right the hell now.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’ve lived with you now for a while or maybe it’s simply the way your mind works, but on occasion you happen to think something so direct… that I just _hear it_.”

“When did that start happening?”

Cas shrugged. “Around three weeks ago, I guess. It wasn’t sudden, Dean, or I would’ve said something. It was more like the volume was slowly being raised. And besides, I’ve always felt your more … _deconstructed_ prayers anyway; it didn’t really feel like a drastic change.” Turning his eyes upward, Cas seemed to mull over the added breadth of his powers. “I believe whatever bond we have increased my, um, Dean Winchester radio tuner.”

So, Cas was picking up not just angel radio, but Dean radio? Well that’s not good. Not at all.

“Wait a minute,” he said in a hard voice, leveling Cas with a shrewd look. “The CD wasn’t _that_ obvious. You heard something else, didn’t you?”

As a reply, Cas smiled sheepishly.

“Dammit! My plan’s all shot to hell.” Dropping his head down towards his chest, Dean considered how much of a terrible crash and burn his super suave Cheesemas plan was becoming.

“It’s not. I swear,” Cas assured him. “I don’t actually know the details. And none of your thoughts before were ever too obvious, so when I suddenly heard an errant thought about you wanting to metaphorically have children with me, and then not ten minutes later you were coming to my room with that CD ... and those songs...”

It was obvious Cas had more to say, but he shut right up when he noticed the terror on Dean’s face. Terror, of course, and about maximum levels of humiliation.

Heat radiated from his cheeks. “Uh, that’s not … I mean … I don’t, like,” Dean stuttered, “well we can’t even—”

Squinting at Dean, Cas angled his head and interrupted. “Not in this body, no. But I suppose if I were to take a female vessel, you could—”

“—Please stop talking,” Dean demanded.

Cas sighed and prattled on regardless. “Dean, I might not have been in the human world very long, but I was able to piece together the puzzle. Even without that particular thought, there was that one prayer in Purgatory.“

Okay, his face had to be sporting some actual flames now. “Holy fuck. You heard that?!” he squeaked.

“I told you before I heard all of them, Dean.”

True enough, but crap-crap- _crap_! “Still, man, that’s a lot of prayers. I kinda figured you were tuning me out more often than not. I mean some were downright cruel. I wasn’t even sure you would’ve thought of, uh, that one, as a prayer… it was more like, uh, abstract thoughts slash masturbation.”

Cas huffed a laugh and met his eyes fondly. He threw his hands up in surrender. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt and figured you were trying to multitask.”

That dragged a laugh out of him. “Well, thanks. I guess.”

Christ. Metaphorical babies and overheard masturbation. It was all coming out now.

“So…” Cas eyed him significantly. He looked back at the cars speeding past as they sat there on the side of the road.

Dean chewed his lip for a second. “Alright. Two rules: No gawkin’ at my soul. And no creepin’ on my thoughts, capiche?”

“Dean, if I turn off your thoughts, I won’t hear anything else either.”

On the one hand, there’d be some benefits to that. But he understood Cas not wanting to cut himself off. _Fine_. Dean could work with it. It didn’t change anything. Not really.

He’d just have to tiptoe inside his own brain. That was doable. In a maybe but probably not kind of way.

_Or…_

Dean grinned wickedly as an idea presented itself. Shifting his gaze over, he winked and thought, _I bet you’re just dying to know what happens at the end of this plan, huh?_

Cas scowled. “Drive to the damn pizza place already.”

Chuckling, Dean directed his eyes back to the gravel shoulder in front of them and put the car in gear, steering them into a gap amongst the flow of traffic.

That night, they ate pizza with Sam, did research, and Dean tested his radio broadcasting system very effectively he’d say.

That is, if the fact that Cas had sworn abruptly and stomped off to his room was any indication.

As a side bonus, it helped Dean understand how “direct” a thought needed to be for it to be heard on the other side.  

When he finally crawled into a bed a few hours later, Dean heard the heavy beat of the Adele song from the CD pumping through the vents. For a while, he let himself imagine what Cas was doing.

And no, not in a dirty, perverted way. It was actually kind of nice to think of the angel laid out on his bed, ankles crossed as he stared up at the ceiling—much in the same position Dean was.

Maybe Cas was thinking about him too.

And maybe Cas’ thoughts weren’t as tame as his were. Grinning lazily, not unlike a brainless fool, Dean rolled onto his side and began to drift off, not even bothering to get under the covers.

Not once had his thoughts strayed to the evil woes they faced since he came to bed.

Maybe being disgustingly in love wasn’t without purpose. Sure, it was intoxicating and all rainbows and kittens. But one of the best surprises about this whole thing with Cas was how much of a distraction it was turning out to be.

Who knew Cheesemas would become more important than the dire state of the world?

But heck, who was Dean to question the power of Cheesemas! It was, unquestionably, a fantastic holiday.

And it was only getting started.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're all still loving it!!! And if you noticed any mistakes that got missed, please let me know (I made some last minute edits) :) THANKS


	4. On The Third Day of Cheesemas, Let There Be Beer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beer, a date, and some flirting.

“Behold,” announced Dean in his best fake King voice as he stood in Cas’ room at four in the afternoon. “I bequeath to you the flavours of the world!”

Even though Cas rolled his eyes at the delivery, he still smiled and took the basket of beer from him. “I take it you want me to become an expert drinker like yourself.”

Stung by the dig, Dean shrank back. It was no big secret that Sam and Cas thought he was an alcoholic. The kicker was, they weren't exactly wrong. But the life he lived was just too damn shitty not to need a way to zone out here and there. Everyone was allowed a vice, and this just happened to be his. As long as he wasn't stumbling around, barfing, and pissing himself he figured he still fell under the column of being a functional alcoholic and that was acceptable.

Recovering, Dean stood straight and said, “Hey, It’s not like I’m offering up ten bottles of Jim Bean or Tequila Rose here. These are some quality ales from around the world. And we’re going to take them with us on a little road trip.”

“Ah,” Cas said with understanding. “So drinking _and_ driving then?”

Dean groaned and debated taking the gift back. It was supposed to be a happy thing not a means for Cas to pester him. “Would you quit bugging me and just come with? Geez, you're gonna ruin Cheesemas for everyone, Cas.”

“On one condition,” Cas qualified.

Narrowing his eyes, Dean eyed him warily. “What?”

“If you want me to go down this road with you, you need to cut back on the hard liquor. Actually, I’d prefer it if you stopped altogether, but it is you, so I’m aware of my limitations in the request.”

Shit.

They were negotiating personality traits. Or more accurately, Dean's less stellar personality traits. Wasn't this what couples do? Try to make the other a better human being and all that? 

"Trying to improve my already current level of awesomeness?"

Leveling him with a look, Cas crossed his arms and eased back, his blue eyes hard and totally uncompromising. "I'm trying to make sure you don't die prematurely. I may not always be an angel, Dean."

And suddenly they were talking about the future. Damn. In all of Dean's planning for Cheesemas, he hadn't given much thought to what happened afterwards. At least nothing farther than the elusive concept of being happy and physically satisfied. Guess it made sense to consider one's health if one planned to grow old with another person. Considering his own lifestyle and safety for the sake of someone else wasn't a strong suit of Dean's by any stretch of the imagination.

But for Cas, he would give it a go. Alcohol might've been a part of who he was for longer than he cared to remember, but it _was_ a shitty attribute.

Grudgingly, he met Cas’ eyes. “Fine. For you, I'll do my damnedest. But I'm warning you now, if shit takes a turn for worse. And I mean, like, people dying in the streets, darkness reaping destruction left, right, and center. I’m gonna politely forget this conversation and chug back a liquor store—you know, like you did once.”

Uncrossing his arms, Cas set his shoulders, his chest broadening with a breath, and set Dean with a heated black stare. It actually served to get him a little hard. “If that happens, and I think you're about to fall into a bottle perhaps I’ll be forced to tie you up.” With that, Cas winked, held his beer basket in his arms and walked right past and down the hall.

Before he could follow, Dean licked his very dry lips, swallowed, adjusted his dick, and then turned around.

Quitting booze had never appealed more.

…

Dean drove them only an hour before he found a stripped field that, by the looks of things, hadn’t been farmed in years. He turned the Impala onto an overgrown tractor trail and cursed as the right side dipped into a rut and he winced even more when the suspension nearly bottomed. The second the car had all tires on a fairly level stretch of land, he parked with a grateful sigh.

“Baby’s not a fan of off-roading.”

Cas unbuckled his seatbelt. “What now?”

Exiting the car, Dean moved to the trunk and took out the cooler with the beer in it, some snacks, and a freaking blanket.

Damn right he brought a blanket. This was the Super Suave Twelve Days of Cheesemas by Dean fucking Winchester.

Cas stood by the passenger door with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his new jeans. “A blanket?”

“Don’t make fun of me or you’ll be sitting on the grass.”

Shrugging, Cas took the cooler and snacks from Dean so he could lay the blanket out on the hood of the car. Part of the reason for the grey fleecy blanket was that Dean wasn’t about to sit the cooler on the Impala’s paint job.

They got settled and Dean handed Cas one of the beers and took one for himself. He was grateful that he had an opener on his keyring because half the bottles would definitely not be twist-offs.

“And what happens if we get drunk?” asked Cas.

Dean turned to him, his eyebrows up. “You _do_ know you’re an angel, right?”

“Are you implying you’ll let me dr—“

“God no! You sober me up and then I’ll drive.”

Shaking his head, Cas leaned back against the windshield. The sun was setting and he looked peaceful, content. “You know,” Cas said with a tone that failed nonchalance. “If you plan on, um, seducing me or whatever you’d like to call this endeavor, at some point you’re going to have to let me drive your car. Besides, I’ve let you drive mine.”

With a quiet laugh, Dean debated correcting him. This wasn’t a seduction per se. Sure, he hoped in the end things would become decidedly physical. God knows they had enough sexual tension to fill a Costco warehouse. But he was trying to be reputable and gentlemanly. Besides, they had history and there was a lot of bad air between them that lingered like dust. His plan, as stupid as it might seem, wasn’t hasty.

After a couple minutes of swirling his own thoughts around, he said, “Well, it makes sense you’d let me drive your car, I know how to drive better than you do.”

They each took a sip of beer and Cas suddenly got serious on him. “Can I ask you about Amara?”

Dean went stiff. It was bound to come up. But even knowing the subject would eventually get raised didn't mean he was any closer to having answers for the man. At least, none that would make sense or make either of them feel good about the situation. “Can I politely say no and ask that we pretend that whole problem doesn’t exist right now?”

The air felt tight between them and Dean hated it. All he wanted was for the distraction of what they had, or what they were building, to continue distracting him. Guess he wasn't that lucky.

Cas frowned kindly. “No. I know you don’t have any real answers, Dean, I was only hoping you’d elaborate on what you think the connection is or what it means. Tell me how you feel about it.”

“This is really bad date talk, ya know?”

Cas smiled. “We’re on a date?”

Taking a sip of his beer, Dean looked upward and wished there were less clouds. “Does it feel like a date?”

Surprising him, Cas’ fingers slipped into his palm and tucked neatly between his own. As if it had been practiced and perfected, they both tightened the hold when their digits were all perfectly braided together and weirdly comfortable.

“It does now,” Cas said cheekily. “Of course, I have no comparison.”

Dean remained fixated on their hands. His fingers and knuckles were meatier and uglier from all the beatings they'd taken over the years, whereas Cas had perfect, long fingers and smooth unmarred skin. Quite long fingers actually. The kind of fingers that could render a man into a puddle of desperation probably. Hmm, his body tingled in places that didn't often tingle.

In superhero-level suaveness, Dean cleared his throat and washed down the flicker of arousal by chugging a quarter of the beer in one go. Taking a peak at the label as he rested it on his thigh, he noticed it was a Belgium brew. Nice flavour; darker and more robust that his normal picks (normally chosen for the price point). It wasn't the kind of beer you'd want to hammer back if you were intending to get wasted, but it served well enough for this kind of thing.

This kind of thing being a date. Apparently.

Just as he was starting to grin at ingeniously diverting the conversation, Cas squeezed his hand and said his name once. The verbal equivalent of a nudge.

Guess this conversation was gonna happen after all.

“Honestly?” he started off. “I don’t friggin' know. I just … I can’t hurt her, Cas. And whenever she’s close I can feel this pull towards her. It’s not like the mark or anything else I've ever experienced. None of it feels evil or all that bad. Just … protective. And I know she, uh…” Dean trailed off.

But Cas was ready to finish the sentence for him. “ _...Wants you_?”

A harsh sneer quirked the corner of his mouth but he didn’t bother to say anything else. Dean decided not to get into how unnerved the whole thing made him. Because the truth was, he felt powerless to her and knew that she could make him do whatever she wanted and he'd do it. Being here with Cas, rolling out his twelve-step love confession, was something he needed more than he'd ever admit.

Cas sighed and took another beer from the cooler, holding it out to Dean who popped the cap with his free hand. After Cas had taken the first sip, he said, “I suppose a little competition is healthy.”

Taking a deep breath, ready to dive into this relationship business, Dean raised their joined hands to his mouth and kissed Cas’ thumb. “No competition. I swear.”

“Except for the supernatural pull to protect her and potentially mate with her or something,” added Cas cheerfully. The kind of cheerful that sounded horrifically depressed.

With their hands still near his mouth, Dean pulled back his lips and nipped Cas’ knuckle. “Don’t be stupid,” he chastised. “I’m not going to mate with her. I’m not like some freaking animal at the zoo here.” At least, he fucking hoped that wouldn't be the case.

There was pleasant silence for a while as they drank. Without wind or the sounds of a city anywhere nearby, he could focus on how calm it was and all the little things about the evening. Like the warmth of their joined hands between them and how Cas' hair was a disastrous mess that Dean couldn't stop staring at from the corner of his eye, wondering how soft it would be if he sank his hands into it.

Out of nowhere Cas whipped sideways. “But if you _were_ a zoo animal, which one would you want to be?”

Dean laughed, but he did have an immediate answer to that. “A bear.”

“Why?”

“Because all they do is sleep all day. Friggin’ awesome, if ya ask me.”

Cas pondered that and nodded. “I think I’d like to be a bird of some kind.”

Total shocker, he thought sarcastically. Dean chuckled and felt his thumb give a little stroke over Cas’ skin. “Would you fly into my bear den?”

Scooting lower on the car, Cas turned and grinned. “Would you eat me if I did?”

_Mmm_. What a question. Dean bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the naughty reply hovering on the tip of his tongue. Their conversation was steadily climbing Mount Flirtation and Dean was okay with that. It made him antsy and, well, horny.

“That depends on what kind of bird you are. Are you a tasty bird?”

As they both started to smile wide with how asinine the conversation was becoming, it didn’t stop it from continuing.

“I’m…” Cas held his answer and searched Dean’s face. “A penguin.”

“I don’t think a penguin’s a bird.” And they for sure don't fly, but Dean wasn't about to point that out.

“Sure it is. Does that mean you won’t eat me?”

Son of a bitch. Too many images from late-night porn binges were rolling through his thoughts. Maybe he should pour a cold beer down his pants? Dean swallowed. “Depends on how hungry I am.”

Cas licked his lips. “I think very.”

“I think so too.”

The mother of all eyefucks unfolded between them and there was no point in trying to hide the obvious hard-on growing behind his zipper. Cas was on the uptake of all this and Dean hoped the angel was having his own kind of situation. It wouldn't be fair otherwise. And so he stared. Letting every dirty thought take over his mind.

At the very moment when Dean began to toy with idea of moving closer, Cas blinked and parted his mouth. “Beer?” he said quickly, his tone falsely chipper. It shocked Dean out of a dazed zone and he was grateful. There would be plenty of time for getting it on later.

Dean hummed and nodded. “That was … interesting.”

Taking the offered drink from Cas' hand, Dean brought it to his mouth and held it by the neck with his lips, freeing up his hand to give his dick some necessary adjustments. Poor bastard was all trapped and cramped down there. He heard Cas huff a small laugh beside him. Dean glared over at him and took the beer away from his mouth so he could talk. "Don't laugh, this is all your fault."

"I'm not even a little sorry."

They drank and said nothing for an hour or maybe longer. Time wasn’t something Dean was in the mood to pay attention too.

It was under the absolutely black, overcast late fall evening sky when Dean finally cleared his throat and looked over in the dark. “Did we seriously turn each other on talking about zoo animals?”

Cas burst out laughing and managed a yes between elated huffs. It was the happiest Dean could ever remember seeing him. And fuck, didn't that just make his heart nearly burst free of his body.

In the end, Dean didn’t finish off the apparent date with a kiss. But he did hold Cas’ hand the whole way back. It was hard to contemplate the idea of letting go when they reached the bunker. He was so used to how it felt.

What an amazing thing this hand holding had turned out to be. Such a simple form of connection, really. Dean loved the way his fingers locked perfectly between Cas’, the way the warmth of their palms pressed together, how Cas would suddenly squeeze his hand or brush his thumb over Dean’s. It always left him wondering what had prompted the touch.

One thing this date managed to do, was make him painfully aware of how goddamn sexy Cas’ hands were. And Christ, those damn fingers. _Ugh_. For the second time that night, it was hard not to imagine what those fingers could do. Dean hoped he’d be finding out sometime soon.

It had occurred to him that Cas’ level of experience when it came to sex and specifically sex with men would be zilch, but that conversation was reserved for a later date.

It was too soon to rush into any frank discussions about who’s puttin’ what where.

Despite that, Dean let his imagination run wild. Why else would God have given him an imagination if not for him to imagine himself getting pounded by one of God's angels.

When they got home, Dean was glad he'd concocted a story earlier about he and Cas heading out to investigate a lead. So when Sam asked how it went, Dean looked over at Cas and said, “Nothing concrete yet, but we might get lucky.”

Cas did a shit job of hiding his adorable sly grin. Thankfully, Sam wasn't paying attention, so it was fine.

With his brother’s back turned, Dean found those blue eyes and sent out a thought: _Goodnight Cas.  
_

Nothing changed in Cas’ expression that time except for an honest to god twinkle in the man’s eye. Surely, that was nothing more than a byproduct of crappy lighting, but for a second Dean considered how fucking awesome their love story would play out on a big screen.

Fucking Christmas, man. Made everyone into big fat saps. Dean imagined there was a gaudy Christmas tree lighting up inside of him sprouting rainbows and unicorns galore. But hey, that crap was better than finding a dark pit of evil in the depths of his soul. Been there done that. Dean was ready for something less macabre.  _  
_

Lying in bed that night, he perused his list and struck out Day Three.

“Super Suave Twelve Days of Cheesemas is going pretty smoothly, if I do say so myself!” Dean flicked the paper before he carefully folded it and shoved it back in his drawer.

That night, he had a dumbass dream about a bear and penguin cuddling on an iceberg. It was so stupid and hilarious that he texted Cas at three in the morning to tell him about it.

He probably shouldn’t have. It was, after all, a super lame dream. But he’d been tired and not fully awake.

_Being in love makes you look like a moron anyway, so who cares, right?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these chapters aren't longer! I normally write insanely long chapters, but this fic isn't meant to be crazy long. Hope that's okay with you guys <3 <3


	5. On The Fourth Day of Cheesemas, Let There Be Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, this one is very short. They'll likely get longer as I go. Also, I made a lot of last minute changes that my beta did not get a chance to review -- any issues, let me know. <3

Okay, so this one wasn’t bound to be anywhere as awesome as yesterday had turned out, but Dean knew Cas would be appreciative and he mentally kicked himself for not doing it sooner.

It didn’t secure a lot of hanging out time, unfortunately. More the opposite, but Dean had research out the ass to do and Sam was zeroing in on a hunt and man he hoped his Cheesemas schedule wasn’t fucked with.

Around lunch, he made a sandwich and headed towards Cas’ current spot in the main room, arched over a book and no doubt grumbling at it like a lunatic librarian.

“Pack it up, it’s break time.”

When Cas lifted his head, his eyes were pinkish and he looked confused. “Huh?”

“Food. And I have something planned.”

Sam suddenly entered the room with a veggie shake in one hand (looking a whole lot like baby diarrhea to Dean) and his laptop in the other. “What do you have planned?”

Both Cas and Dean looked at each other and then back at Sam, and then back at each other.

“Um,” Dean started.

Cas sat up straight and angled his chin over his shoulder to face Sam. “For Amara, he means.”

Dean blanked and stuttered. “What now? _I do?_ ”

With a strained groan, Cas threw his head back. “I give up. This is ridiculous. Sam, your brother is keeping something from you but it’s nothing serious, I promise. It seems he's a very poor liar and I would appreciate it if you didn't force him to, or force him to divulge his secret before he's apparently ready. On that note, you're also bad at lying. And all this lying between you two, it never works out anyway. You always find out the truth you've tried to keep from each other. You know Dean, this secret of yours”—A low panic grew as Cas kept rambling—"I have another caveat I'd like to add."

Oh boy. Dean spared one look at his brother and then resigned himself. "Uh-huh. And what's that exactly?"

"Never lie to your brother again."

Screwing up his face a little, Dean had a hard time missing the irony. "Dude, we're lying to him right now!"

"Omission is not necessarily a lie. It's a truth retained for the future."

At that point, Sam had evidently had enough. "Omission is lying, Castiel. Ever hear the saying: Lying by omission?" His younger brother didn't give them a chance to reply. "What the hell's going on?"

Cue another round of uncertain stares and a heavy silence. Dean debated just outing everything but decided against it. "Nothing for you to worry about. And it's got nothing to do with any of the other crap going on, just chill, will ya?"

"Can I get a hint?"

In the immediate silence, Dean tried to think of something funny. Cas beat him to the pinch with: "Cheese. Dean seems very set on the Cheese aspect of the whole thing."

Good grief. That was obvious. Either Dean was hiding a cheesy lie, or he was hiding a brick of marble cheddar in his room. It was clear which assumption his brother would make.

If anything, Sam appeared more confused than before. "Ya know what, I don't even think I want to know anymore. Let's just get to work."

"Yeah, we'll get to that in a sec." Even with Sam lingering, Dean could still do his plan for today.

Ignoring the intruding set of hazel eyes, Dean handed Cas the sandwich he'd made for the guy and opened up the closed computer that had been pushed off to the side. Sam had sat down across the table and didn’t seem to care what Dean was doing.

How considerate.

Dean sat down beside Cas and dragged his chair close. Taking control of the laptop, he went to Google and typed in the site he needed. He’d already set up the account and just had to log in.

“What’s Skype?” asked Cas.

Sam’s head popped up from the other side of the table. He set down his barf drink and looked at Dean. “Who are you guys planning to Skype with?”

Clicking to the login page, and then typing, Dean quipped, “Dolly Parton. Now shut your yap.”

After getting in, he felt Cas watching as Dean selected the screenname ‘cN_whatever’ and hit the green phone receiver doo-dad.

_Bomp-bee-boo-bomp._

“That’s a peculiar sound,” stated Cas, his eyes squinting.

A new window flickered to life on the screen and it displayed mostly blond hair and one of those perpetual teenager-specific scowls.

“Hey Cas. _Dean_.”

The choice for Day Four was justified the moment he watched the smile spread across Cas’ face. “Claire. It’s very nice to see you. Two-dimensionally of course.”

“Technology these days, huh?” she said.

Dean caught Sam’s curious stare from across the table. He shrugged. Most of his attention was pulled to the conversation going on beside him. Cas was asking how she was doing and she was offering up one-word teenager-like replies. But it was obvious she was happy about the check-in.

Jody popped in to wave at all of them and Sam came around to say his hellos.

Eventually, Dean left and Sam went back to research. In his room hours later, books and phone numbers of other hunters spread out around him, Dean was circling a thought he had but he had no idea how to execute the idea. Not that he had assurances his thought might work but he figured it didn’t hurt to take a stab at it.

For now, he wouldn’t say anything to Sam or Cas. Better not offer up a hail Mary just yet. It was a shoddy plan at best.

Reaching over, he dug out his phone from under two heavy books and skimmed it's contents aimlessly. There were no new calls or texts. He pulled up the browser and typed in a quick search, his mind still mulling over the previously formed idea. As expected, nothing concrete came out of it.

And then, out of sheer curiosity, he tapped out the address of his favourite porn site and navigated to a particular category. Not that he was in any way a virgin, no matter how you looked at it, but it had been a while since he'd fooled around with a guy. Perusing the videos was disguised as research. If he wanted to rock Cas' world in the near future he should bone up on technique, shouldn't he?

As it happened, he did wind up viewing a few videos for the sake of research. Look at that, he thought, Dean Winchester trying to master the art of sex more than his experiences had already offered. How thorough of him.

What would Cas even like? Man, Dean was seriously nervous about failing in the bedroom. There'd been only a handful of times in his life he'd suffered performance issues. Once, when he was younger and was high; evidently pot and the ability to hold an erection didn't work for Dean. The other times were all a result of one thing. And that was after he'd first gotten back from Hell. It was no surprise being tortured and torturing had fucked him up in a profound number of ways. 

But he was in love and figured that should make things easier. Didn't exactly seem to be the case, though. Well, thank fucking god he was putting that off. No sense in screwing things up now.

When his muscles and joints started to protest the prolonged sitting, Dean gathered up all the crap on his bed and piled everything as neatly as possible on the ledge overhead.

As he laid spread eagle on the bed for a lazy bunch of minutes, he had very few thoughts moving around. They were nothing more complicated than: _need to pee_ , and _brush teeth_.

In boxers and a t-shirt, Dean was ready to make his way to the bathroom to take care of those things when there was a soft knock on his door.

“You awake?”

Though he was happy that Cas was on the other side of his door he was also beat and kinda just wanted to go to bed.

Either way, he opened the door and leaned on the jamb before he raised his chin. “Evening. Fancy meeting you here.”

Being weirdly enigmatic, Cas’ eyes darted in one direction down the hall, then the other, before they rested back on Dean. “Thank you for setting that up with Claire. I appreciate it very much.”

A yawn pushed it’s way out. “ _Hmmng_. No problem. Sorry today wasn’t more … like yesterday.”

“Are you engaging in a little self-competition? Trying to one up yourself each time?”

Man, he loved Cas. He did. But fuck he was tired and flirting wasn’t on his short list of immediate plans of action. Dean smiled sleepily and laid his palm on Cas’ chest. “No one-upping right now, sorry, buddy. I need my beauty rest if I’m gonna keep this up.”

“You’re already beautiful,” said Cas, with such striking sincerity. It was _almost_ not annoying.

An undignified groan scraped out of his throat. “Ugh. I don’t know if that’s you hitting on me, but I expect better out of you tomorrow, now go to bed.” Dean shoved him a little and moved past to go the washroom.

Cas followed.

When he realized Cas was tracing his steps right into the bathroom, he stopped and turned around. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to brush my teeth,” he answered innocently.

“You’re an angel, Cas, you don’t need to brush your teeth.”

It didn’t matter though. Dean was ignored and Cas plucked the purple toothbrush out of the cup and just started brushing. Whatever. He grabbed his navy one and did the same.

They stared at each other in the mirror. It weirdly turned him on and he realized taking a piss after this was gonna take longer than he’d anticipated. Factoring in the minute or so it would take to rid himself of an erection.

How much of a love-sick moron was he that teeth-brushing was some kind of sudden ‘ _On_ ’ button?

In the mirror, he saw Cas’ eyes flash down and, oh right, Dean was wearing boxers. Underwear that did _not_ hide boners. At all. And if he wasn’t careful the thing might pop out through the slit.

No longer was this the Twelve Days of Cheesemas by Dean Suave Winchester. It was the Twelve Circles of Hell in which he wanted to jump Cas like a horny seventeen year old. Apparently the fear of performance issues had been drastically unwarranted. Given the state of things below, he was very much ready to perform.

Man, Christmas was light-years away at this rate.

Just a regular day in the Winchester household: Monsters, World on Suicide Watch, Boners and Teeth-brushing.

All in a day.

They both spit and rinsed and tapped their toothbrushes on the edge of the sink and put them back.

“Ok,” Dean pointed at Cas. “I need to pee so get out.”

Cas chuckled with a quick flicker down and said, “Good luck.” And then he left.

Asshole.

Staring down at his erection, he closed his eyes and thought about moldy food until the thing settled down. It ended up taking him three entire minutes to get soft and be able to take a normal piss. Christ, you’d think he was in high school or something.


	6. On The Fifth Day of Cheesemas, Let There Be Cheese. Actual Cheese.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and a movie. Also, Dean has a Pinterest account.

A little more privacy was desired for this one so he kicked Sam out under the false pretense of a potential hunt that he was meeting Jody for. By some strange accident, he actually might’ve set Jody and Sam up on a date.

 _Meh_. Love is in the air and all that shit. Maybe it’ll catch on flu-style. Sneeze the love!

With his little bro out for a day and a half at the most, he had oodles of time. And, he thought, staring at the counter, he also had noodles.

Oodles and noodles. Dean snorted and started figuring out the remaining ingredients. He was a decent cook, and he prided himself on it, but there were some things that daunted him.

And why on earth he’d thought browsing Pinterest for a new recipe was a good idea was now escaping him. What was worse was that he even had a Pinterest account! But, hey, no one could tell him how to spend his down time and if he wanted to fabricate a perfect metaphorical life in the shape of digital boards with pins then so fucking be it. Haters be damned!

All that being great, Dean glanced down at grimaced.

“Overreaching, Dean,” he muttered to himself eyeing the picture on the printout.

What he wanted to make was a regular old delicious spaghetti. The tricky part was that said spaghetti would be wrapped in braided garlic bread.

For a moment he nearly tossed the recipe in the garbage and debated proposing to Cas instead because it would a hell of a lot easier. Christ, he could probably forge a ring out of an angel blade before he would be able to finish this recipe.

Fuck it. Dean clapped his hands and got to work.

…

There was flour in his ear and egg goop dried on his forearm.  But, he nodded with self-satisfaction, the whole thing was prepped and about to be stuck in the oven.

Cas, gratefully, had promised to stay out of the kitchen. Research prison, Dean had demanded. “You’re in research prison and can’t leave until I say so.”

A while later, when the oven beeped to indicate his masterpiece was complete, he opened the door and the friggin' room flooded with mouth-watering aroma.

Man, if he’d been Cas, he would be—

“I need to eat whatever is in this room.”

Dean stood and spun around holding the metal pan with oven mitts and smirked. “I’m in this room.”

“No offence, but that looks better.”

That actually kind of hurt. “ _Dude_. I have feelings.”

With a scoff, Cas strode over and bent down to sniff closer. “Oh. My. God.”

Managing to pull an OMG out of Cas was praise enough, he could forgive the comment that apparently Cas wanted food more than he wanted Dean.

“Go sit and I’ll serve it up.”

Instead of leaving, Cas set on him one of those admiring sort of stares he did sometimes. One that made him feel squirmy and cared about. He didn’t particularly like it.

“Dean?”

He restrained a groan. “What?”

“I’m liking this plan of yours.”

“Yeah?” he smiled like an idiot.

“I’m curious about how it ends.”

Dean placed the tray down on the table and gestured with his mitten-covered hands, “Here’s hoping I don’t get half way there and we wind up having to chase down evil and then die in some gruesome bloody death.”

“If your ‘pessimistic, woe-is-us, the world is ending, alcoholic’ parade returns I’ll have to do something drastic.”

Dean began cutting, forgetting all about making Cas go and wait for it. “Like what?”

“Tying you up and forcing you listen to that CD endlessly until you remember that occasionally being happy, even under dire circumstances, is not the worst thing in the world.”

In the midst of trying to scoop some kind of serving of the dish on plates, Dean couldn’t help eyeing Cas over his shoulder. “What’s with the bondage, man? We haven’t even kissed yet and that’s twice I’m hearing talk about getting all roped up.”

Not that he was adverse to the idea. But geez, they had to progress to kissing before they moved on to kinky shit.

“Hmm,” Cas searched his eyes and then a small smile flickered for a second. “Not adverse to the idea. Good to know.”

Dean growled. “Stop that or you’re not getting any food.”

When Cas stayed silent, Dean looked him in the eye and thought, _Good Boy_. And shit, for a brief fleeting moment, he thought Cas might smack him. It made things downstairs a little… enlarged.

Coughing past his arousal, Dean picked up one plate and shoved it at Cas. “Here.”

After taking his own, he ushered Cas out of the kitchen and they moved into the library and sat on opposite sides of one of the small reading tables.

There was a legitimate dining table in the back part of the kitchen, but it was industrial-lit in there and not exactly screaming romance or anything.

Not that he was trying to be romantic, but he wasn’t not trying to be romantic either.

God, sometimes he wondered about himself. Really.

They ate slowly, with the requisite moans the meal deserved. Because fuck you Ramsay, Dean Winchester was the Master!

Garlic Bread Stuffed Spaghetti was going to be number one on his recipe list for a long time. Sadly, it wasn’t the most attractive of meals to eat. The spices and grease from the garlic bread covered their hands and dusted around their lips.

There was spaghetti sauce on Cas’ chin. Dean said nothing because it was funny. But who was he to laugh anyway, he probably had parsley in his teeth.

Again, really sexy meal.

When they’d demolished the hefty servings on their plates they both sat back from the table and looked at each other.

“Happy Fifth Day of Cheesemas,” Dean said with a soft smile. The carb-heavy meal was already making him drowsy. A nap would be awesome.

Cas raised one of the beers from the other day that they hadn’t gotten around to drinking. “Cheesemas?” he wondered, his beer held back so that Dean would give an answer before they did the clinky thing.

Which was cheesy too. As was their meal. Cheese, cheese and super cheese.

“My plan is arguably cheesy. So I called it Cheesemas.”

“Yes, I’ve heard you refer to all this as being Cheesy. But Cheesemas? That’s not a word, Dean.”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Dictionary. Would you freakin’ clink my beer, my arm is getting tired.”

They clinked.

Cas said, “If that tires your arm, I have no idea how you manage to fight monsters on a regular basis.”

“Well geez, it’s not like I’m loaded on adrenaline at the moment. You think I’m some kind of superhero?” he asked sarcastically.

Leave it to Cas to grin at him and go: “You are a superhero.”

It was very tempting to say, ‘Fuck you.’ With love, obviously. But he didn’t, he just shot Cas a dramatic sarcastic expression with his nose scrunched and said nothing.

“What now?” Cas rose to his feet and grabbed both two plates, looking back at Dean for an answer before he brought their dirty dishes to the kitchen.

Crap. It wasn’t even late and he had nothing planned. “Um, your choice!”

Piling the plates in one hand, Cas grabbed his half-finished beer and took a sip. He set it back down and gave Dean a hard long stare.

“I don’t think what I want to do is permitted at this stage of your Cheesemas plan.”

Dean chuckled and thought, _The Horniest Angel in the Garrison, huh?_

Before Cas turned to go to the kitchen, he smiled in a way that seemed to translate Dean’s earlier, almost spoken ‘Fuck You’ sentiment.

How nice of them to volley unspoken Fuck Yous so lovingly. And he meant that. Because it was them, and they weren’t formal, or even normal for that matter.

After going over his list, he decided that—even if it infringed upon Day Nine—they would watch a movie. But in Sam’s room because it was neutral. Otherwise he wasn’t all that confident in his will power.

And Cas was being a freaking tart.

Mmm, tarts.

“ _Dammit_! Cas, I forgot to make dessert!”

...

Sharing Sam’s bed, which killed any of Dean’s hornier inclinations entirely, they perused the movies on Dean’s laptop. There was some friendly arguing over what to choose.

It was Christmas, after all. So Miracle on 34th Street was selected. The black and white version because Cas was striving to annoy him.

Truth was, Dean enjoyed both versions. Sometimes he just argued  for the sake of it.

A third of the way through the movie, Cas scooted closer and Dean shot him a look. “What are you doing?”

“Am I infringing upon your personal space?”

What a freaking tease. “Yes. Back it up. This is Sam’s disgusting bed and I have absolutely no desire to do anything even remotely in the universe of sexual in here.”

After a weighted silence, Cas stiffly said, “Dean?”

“Yes?”

“If I implode before Christmas, please scrape my remains off the floor and burn everything in a nice secluded area. Thank you.”

With a nod, Dean smiled and patted Cas’ thigh. “It would be my pleasure.”

The rest of the movie was fraught with a heated tension so incredibly dense that Dean was positive Sam would walk into his room the next day and not be able to breathe.

An abrupt realization occurred to him and he burst out laughing.

With a start, Cas jumped and faced him. “Dean, this is sad! Santa is on trial! Why are you laughing?”

“No, no,” Dean qualified, still in the clutches of laughter. “I just realized something and it was just, I dunno, kind of funny. But it’s not actually. Never mind.”

He tried to temper his quivering huffs but he almost couldn’t fathom that it had been two goddamn weeks since he’d masturbated. That was a fucking record! Pending life and death scenarios of course.

“Oh,” Cas’ eyebrows popped up.

“Stop reading my freaking thoughts!”

“Stop thinking so loudly.”

_I can think loudly if I want to!_

“Then don’t be perturbed when I hear things.”

After a bit of staring, it was classified as a stalemate. They returned to the movie just as the story was winding to an end.

It was only around eight-thirty when the credits rolled. Dean wished he hadn’t put off hitting bases until the end because it left a lot gaps in between filled with prickly tension.

“Alright, no more movies because it messes with my plan. But we can…”

“Make out?” suggested Cas.

Dean laughed, but ultimately shook his head no. “No dice. As much as I would really rather not, I think we need to hit the books and find some way to crack this darkness thing before Sam gets any more stupid ass ideas in his head.”

“Um, well, this is just a suggestion but darkness is the embodiment and representation of every negative trait and emotion, correct?”

Trying to picture Amara as some vessel for everything negative in existence was something he struggled with. Not that he would tell Cas. God he hoped the angel wasn’t brainwave snooping.

“I suppose.” Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, man. Besides, what if it is? How does that change anything?”

Cas shoved the laptop further down the bed and shifted closer. Dean threatened him with a look but Cas didn’t seem to care. “Hear me out, Dean. If she is all of that, perhaps the way to fight her is through the use of light.”

All Dean could picture was pointing a flashlight at Amara and going “ _Die_!” Then, of course, she would laugh at him, and probably paw at him in a creepy, possessive way. Cas was still waiting for him to say something so he rolled his eyes and pandered to the idea Cas was building up to. “Ok, and how exactly do we light her up?”

“Well, you seem to be her connection to the world and maybe the more ‘lightness’ you have in you, the weaker she becomes.”

Now he saw where this was going. What a sneaky little fucker. “Uh-huh. And, um, how exactly do we fill me up with ‘lightness’ Cas?”

It might’ve been an entire minute before Cas spoke, but for that length of time, Dean was certain he didn’t breathe. “Angels are supposedly the essence of lightness.” Cas shrugged all nonchalant. “I could probably help you out.”

Damn, Cas was picking up his game. _And_ seemed to be implying he would be the one doing the banging.

“Think you’re so good, don’t you?” teased Dean.

As an answer, Cas went up to his knees and straddled Dean’s thighs before he could protest. “Yes, I do.”

“Okay, Cas, get off.”

A man had only so much willpower after all.

“Make me.” Cas’ stare on him was dark and erotically terrifying. Wow, Christmas day could not come fast enough.

“Oh sweet jesus.” Slamming his eyes shut, he hoped that he could pretend the weight over his thighs was anything but Cas and his sexed up staring, and his wide-spread thighs. With those annoyingly gorgeous blue eyes and his quirky little smiles.

There was a decent chance he wouldn't survive the next few minutes. Earlier talk of implosion seemed suddenly very plausible.

Dean raised his hands to push Cas off but the thought of getting his hands on the angel to do so had him struggling. He made fists in the air, and felt useless. It was fucking awesome.

“Are you going to push me off?”

“Fuck. I don’t know.”

His eyes popped open when Cas grinded his hips down and forward. “What about now?”

“Cas,” Dean whined. “Don’t do this to me. C’mon, a few days ago you didn’t even know I was gonna take the plunge. Patience, dude! I have my Cheesemas plan. It’s a good plan, right? You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?”

Leaning forward, Cas palmed Dean’s chest and focused on his eyes. “Very much enjoying it. And you’re right, I didn’t know—couldn’t have imagined actually—that you’d ever, in a million years, relent to your feelings. But the thing is, whatever this is between us, it’s been there for a long time. It’s been this … strained, inexplicable itch under my skin and the second you opened the door, you unleashed a part of me that is, to put it plainly, very _very_ desperate to be with you.”

After that explanation, Dean found his wavering willpower had firmed up and he was able to reach out and push Cas off. Not that he let the angel get far.

They were both lying in an awkward side position, elbows on the pillow to raise them up so they could face one another. Dean shifted into Cas’ space, cupped his cheek and guided them together. Same as before, he didn’t touch Cas’ mouth. Instead, he moved lower to graze his lips over Cas’ jaw, tracing the smallest of kisses along the scruffy hard edge. He inched lower, his tongue slipping out when he reached the ultrasoft warmth of his neck.

Dean sucked a kiss over his pulse-point and gently shuffled back after that.

Cas whined his name and slumped back to the bed with a groan.

“Not tomorrow. But the next day,” he promised quietly.

With angelic swiftness, Cas sat up and stared at him. “Two days?”

“Yup.” Dean smiled. “Though, to be clear, that’s just for some excellent making out. You’re not gettin’ any further with me, my friend. So don’t get any ideas in your head. No teasing, no scheming. Got it?”

With a resigned grimace, Cas nodded.

In the end, they did wind up doing research. From that, Dean stumbled upon the writings of one of the past Men of Letters. Although, it was more like babbling. But that man went on and on about the initial forces of the universe. The good versus the bad; light versus dark. The last sentence was underlined several times, and it read, “Love to overcome hate.”

Drifting to sleep later that night, Dean wondered if Cas’ sly flirtation might actually have some traction in this fight. How that would even work, he had no idea. It’s not like he could make love to Cas and then bottle it up for a spell. Sure, the results of them fucking would result in something that could be bottled, but that was icky and it seemed highly unlikely that the effective cure to Amara was throwing a mix of their ejaculate into some bowl with god knows what else and then, what, lighting it on fire?

Man, his almost unconscious thoughts were so fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for that kind of gross visual at the end there lol. Hope you liked Cas being a little tease ;)
> 
> And for those who want to make what Dean made: http://www.rhodesbread.com/blog/blog/braided-spaghetti-bread


	7. On The Sixth Day of Cheesemas, Let There Be Dancing (and maybe a little grinding)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will goes out for a few drinks and Dean drags Cas onto the dance floor. It goes a bit better than he expected. Actually, more like A LOT better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On this lovely weekend before Christmas, please my lovelies ... have some destiel grinding.

“Gettin’ jiggy with it, nananana nana,” Dean sang, sliding into the main room where Cas and Sam were huddled over the table.

His brother looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. “What.”

“Dude, Will Smith.”

More blank faces.

“Nevermind. Anyway, pack up the books boys, we’re going out for much needed drinks.”

Sam hesitated and tried to argue against it but Dean was adamant and pulled the “ _But it’s Christmas, Sammy”_ line on him and the baby brother finally went off to change out of his bum clothes into something that might get him laid.

Taking the opportunity for privacy, Dean sauntered his way over to Cas. He moved in behind him, one arm slipping around his waist.

“Ready?”

“For what?”

Dean held him tighter and swayed them from side to side a little. “To dance with me.”

He had to jump back with how fast Cas spun around to face him. “You want me to dance with you? I don’t know how to dance!” exclaimed Cas, his voice raised in mild panic.

Huffing a laugh, Dean said, “I’ll teach you. It’s not hard. And I recommend that you consume a stupid amount of alcohol. I think tonight will be way more fun if you’re a bit tipsy.”

Hearing Sam’s footsteps down the hall, Dean backed up and winked. _Maybe if you’re lucky, there’ll be some grinding._

That had the intended reaction of ensuring Cas put aside his worries. Even better, Cas was now looking a little fired up when Sam came back in.

“Drinks it is! Let’s go.” Sam said. Dean noticed that he seemed happy, maybe a bit relieved to be going out and enjoying Christmas as if they were normal.

Come to think of it, Dean realized that since he’d gone and started this Cheesemas business, everyone seemed happier, less weary from the state of the world. Even Sam. Which was odd, because his brother still didn’t know what was going on.

It wouldn’t last though. There was a decent chance Sam would catch on tonight. Especially if they did end up grinding on each other on some dance floor. Not exactly easy to pass that off as an accident.

‘I did _not_ mean to rub my erection on Cas’ thigh... Seventy-four times. Accidents, Sammy, every single one.’

Yeah, not so much.

…

Like every other part of his Cheesemas project preparation, Dean had researched the best bar for the occasion. The winner was an Irish pub west of Lebanon, in Smith Center. It was big enough to have tables, live music, and dancing. Thankfully, it had zero club vibes and that was a plus for sure.

Inside the place, it was warm and inviting. Lots of weathered wood, dim lighting, casual chatter. It was the kind of all around place that would draw young people by the hundreds. There was a maze of rooms and even a second floor that had a set of glass doors that led out to a patio above the street. Like he said, Dean had done his damn research.

“Why not the regular place?” asked Sam as they moved towards the first bar they saw.

“I dunno. Just wanted to switch it up.” Or, grind it up.

At the bar, Dean ordered for all of them. Three beers and six shots.

Sam eyed him carefully. “So it’s going to be one of _those_ nights?”

Passing off some bills, Dean took one of the shots available on the bar and tossed it back. “Oh yeah.”

He offered one to Cas who swallowed it back. Remnants of the amber liquor lingered as a slick shine on Cas’ mouth and Dean almost dove in and licked it right off.

Tomorrow, he reminded himself. Dean had to keep his tongue in his mouth until tomorrow. But there was nothing stopping him from getting in some quality high-school appropriate dry humping.

That's what dancing was for, right?

It killed Dean to wait until he knew all of them were buzzed. An absolute necessity of course.  Dean needed to be buzzed so he felt like less of an idiot. Cas needed it so he'd loosen up. And Sam because it would mean his laser intuition would be dampened and maybe Dean could hump it up on the dance floor without his brother being any the wiser.

It's not that he wasn't ready to tell his brother or that he was bothered by the fact the Cas was of the male persuasion.

It was simple.  Having a long drawn out heart to heart with Sam (because knowing his brother that's what would go down) would take away from all of the precious moments that Dean had carved out just for Cas.

He'd been an ass to to the man. Or angel. Dean wasn't sure which category to stick him in now. Either way, angel or man, Cas deserved these twelve days from Dean.

Christmas wasn't Cheesemas without some damn dedication.

The three of them egged each other on, doing shot after shot. And God help him, Dean was really getting into it. It'd been a long fucking time since he, Sam, and Cas had gone out.  And they'd never gotten fucked up together.

About forty minutes after they arrived, Dean eyed Cas from his dark boots to his dark hair and all levels of hot in between and decided he couldn't wait any longer.

It must have showed.

Cas inched towards him and whispered in his ear, “If your intention is for Sam to remain in the dark, you should consider not looking at me like that.”

Dean ignored Sam on his left and turned to grin at Cas on his right.  “Exactly how am I looking at you?” He spoke low, hoping the music drowned him out.

“In a way that makes me think I could persuade you to do some very questionable activities in a public place.”

The fact that Cas continued whispering, his body pressed flush against Dean’s side, was not helping. Neither was the subtle touch of Cas’ fingers skirting along the seam of his jeans, from his hip to his thigh. 

It was important to remember that public erections were frowned upon.

In an attempt to break the tension pulsing between them, Dean cleared his throat. All that did was tighten him all over and he continued to daydream about Cas’ hand sliding over his thigh and—

“This place’s not bad, Dean. Good choice.” Sam clinked his beer and smiled in his direction.

Dean stared down at the lacquered wood, bit his lip, and grabbed the almost drained beer that he'd been mostly using as a chaser. He emptied it.

Looking to his brother, he said, “I’m gonna hit the dance floor and check out what this fine establishment has to offer. You in?” Ten to one, Sam would decline, but there was always a chance he’d get that sparkle in his eye and be on board. Dean sat there and mentally chanted: _Please say no, please say no._

“Dancing? Really, Dean? How drunk are you?” his brother asked. 

Thank you Jesus. Sending his brother a smirk and an indifferent shrug, he turned back to Cas.

“And what about you?” Dean raised his eyebrows significantly. “Interested in getting your groove on?”

“I don't know how to dance.”

At his back, he heard Sam chuckle. “Yeah Cas, I doubt there’s a whole lot of actual dancing going on back there you should be fine.”

True. What was considered “dancing” in this kind of place was more along the lines of jumping when a fast song came on or grinding when a slow beat hit the room. 

“C’mon,” he pestered. “I'm sure we can find some hottie for you to grind on.”

Winking at Cas, Dean dragged him by the sleeve to the edge of the room. The stage and dancing area were in a separate part of the old building that had been converted into an Irish pub. How convenient for someone who wanted to get his dry humping freak on with his best friend and ensure his brother didn't find out.

They followed the hyper sound of the music. It was fast and he was pretty sure it was actually Irish. They navigated towards the beats and found their way to the farthest expanse of the building on the right. This room was quite a lot bigger and had higher ceilings than the cave they'd been in out front. 

He was pleased to see a decent crowd of bodies on the rough, boot-trodden pine floors. At the moment, every energetic body was bouncing up and down and hollering the lyrics of the music.

Man that looked fucking fun. Dean smiled at Cas, who seemed wary. “Trust me.”

Not allowing Cas to protest, Dean grabbed his shoulders from behind and steered him into the centre of the crowd. It was tight and there wasn't exactly room between groups of people. There were shoulders and butts brushing against him but that was one of the inherent joys of this sorta thing.

It was fated genius that a hot chick drunkenly bounced between them when they'd finally come to a stop. Dean figured a woman would be a better impetus for pulling Cas into the moment. A buffer, if you will.

Dean moved in behind her and told her to help out his shy friend.

Cas looked over suspiciously but went along with it.

The Irish song playing hit that part of the chorus where everyone began to jump up and down like maniacs, screaming the lyrics. Dean knew enough of the lyrics and jumped along, letting the rush and energy of the room light up his veins.

The woman, with long light brown hair, swung her arms around Cas and jumped at him. Her curvy body bouncing so haphazardly in a drunken state that she’d probably fall over if Cas wasn't framing her with his arms.

By the end of the fast paced song, the girl had managed to get Cas jumping. Sort of. It resembled aggravated bouncing more than actual jumping.

Dean would be lying if he said it wasn't the funniest shit he's ever seen. Cas looked sorely out of place. But Dean made sure to muffle his reaction by repeatedly wiping across his mouth as if he could erase the smile.

As the second song started, with a heavy base and a smooth delivery, Dean rudely nudged her out of the way and said “Sorry sweetheart, this one’s mine.”

It was the perfect beat for what he wanted.  Dean reached out for cas’ side and pulled him in, enjoying the instant vibe that came with the proximity.

“Don't overthink this, just dance with me,” he coached Cas.

Ignoring the sudden terror in Cas’ expression, he threw one arm around Cas’ neck, slotted his right knee between Cas’ legs and gave the first roll of hips to the flow of the music.

Holy fuck. Arousal struck him like a whip the instant his groin dragged on Cas’ thigh.

But worse than that was the hoarse moan that tickled his ear. It was impressive how quickly Cas’ erection grew between them, hard and unforgiving in the tight, non-existent space. Not that he was the only one reacting.

‘Cause damn. Why the fuck was dry humping reserved for teenagers and virgins? This shit was awesome.

Dean placed his free hand on Cas’ outer hip and dug his fingers in around the bone, hungrily pulling Cas’ firm body against him for another grind.

In the background, the music was nothing more than a baseline and a thrum in his ears, his heart thumping in time with the beat.

They gradually matched pace and found a steady rhythm. Each press of their hips together made him groan and he found himself rubbing his cheek against the side of Cas’ face. Then angling down towards Cas’ neck, wanting to bury himself in the heat there and start sucking.

“Dean,” Cas grated out his name in a voice that might otherwise threaten. It only made Dean loosen his grasp of Cas’ hip to reach around and grab a handful of his ass instead.

“Fuck. Dean. What are you doing?”

Shifting his arm locked around Cas’ neck, Dean twisted his fingers into the messy hair at the back of Cas’ head and pulled, earning a delicious sound from his guardian angel. “Indulging myself. Aren't you?”

Dean called his senses into work and felt for every nuance of Cas’ response. The tug at the front of his own jeans wasn’t just his hard-on straining for space, but Cas’ fingers tucked into his pockets, those deft thumbs inching their way closer to his dick with only the thin cotton of the pocket and his boxers to separate them.

Sneaky bastard.

Cas rolled his hips against Dean, and said,  “I'm about to strip you down and lay you on the floor. Does that answer your question?”

Whoa. Confirmation that Cas was the dominant type had just hit home. Exactly what he’d always hoped for. Every one of his secret fantasies always played out with Cas manhandling him and taking lead. 

In response, Dean grinned beside Cas’ temple and rocked his hips in place, making sure that Cas felt how turned on he was.

Cas' hands slid up under his shirt and the second he registered the skin on skin Dean was tempted to get on board with the whole strip down and fuck on the floor plan.

The song ended abruptly and switched to something else. But it carried the same feel and pulse of the last one and they didn't have to adjust much.

That is, until the song really got going.

Surprising him with a rapid beat and a clangy banjo, he found himself suddenly gyrating on Cas in a dizzy drunken stupor. Not even drunk on booze so much as drunk on Cas. Dean clung to him as the music bounced around them, eliciting a heady need he clearly wasn't able to control.

Everything moved fast and hard, including his breath, ripping out between his lips. The feel of Cas’ hard muscular thigh all hot between Dean’s legs. The way those short nails were scraping along the base of his spine.

Dean couldn't help himself. Scratching at the back of Cas’ neck, Dean’s fingers snaked into the damp brown hair and gripped what he could, pulling hard. Below, where they kept up the grinding, hips rubbing at one another, Dean’s other hand nudged between them, trying to cop a feel of the iron-hard length teasing the inside of his thigh.

As the ultra fast, strange, rock-hipster twangy song radiated in a haze, Dean lost himself to how hard Cas was, and to the low moans rumbling into his eardrum. Even as Dean kept trying to pry his way between them, Cas held him tight, not allowing a lot of wiggle room, or even air for that matter to come between them.

Whatever pace and rhythm they’d found was falling apart. Nothing but rough thrusts against each other remained of the so-called “dancing”.

Wedging into the crush of their hips, Dean finally got his fingers near what he craved. A long moan accompanied that first touch, his knuckles dragging over the prominent sex, wishing there was nothing between them.

Cas groaned against his throat, his cheek now resting on Dean’s shoulder.

As far as he was concerned, there was no one around them. The other bodies accidentally touching him were nothing; an inconvenience at best.

One calculated twist brought their jean-clad erections rubbing side-by-side. Dean nearly came.

“Stop.” Cas pleaded, his voice raspy in Dean’s ear. But the angel ignored his own demand and bit the soft flesh of Dean’s earlobe.

And that was all it took. Heat swam through his veins as the rush of release pulsed through him. Dean panted into Cas’ neck and tried to disguise his hips shaking as continued dancing but he imagined Cas felt it all. Which only made his orgasm ache more.

With a chuckle, Cas reminded him, “I told you to stop.”

Dean hummed and dropped small kisses from Cas’ temple to his jaw, to the crook of his neck. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't ever be sorry for that,” Cas told him.

They'd toned down the clothes-on fucking and were looking at each other, still holding the other close.

“I swear that wasn’t on my agenda,” he promised. “Fuck. Do you think it’ll be obvious?”

Dean stared at Cas hopefully, but the man smirked at him. “I can feel it. Which means you’re screwed.”

Dammit. How the hell was he gonna walk past Sam looking exactly like he’d just blown a load in his underwear. “You’re an angel,” he began. “Clean me up.”

They weren’t so much as dancing now as swaying closely, not paying attention to the style of song.

“Mm-hmm. Like always,” chastised Cas. “Just using me for my powers.”

Oh, fuck that bull-shit. “Don’t be like that. And besides, I’ve never once asked you to use your mojo for this.”

“Sadly, no. I suppose I can help out this one time.”

Abruptly, Dean’s boxers and jeans were dry again. It had a bizarre effect of making his cock tingle. For a curious few seconds, Dean wondered exactly what Cas’ powers could do to him.

Something to explore in the future.

Realizing that Cas was still hard between them, he wished he could fix the problem, but tonight wasn’t meant for that. Dean getting off had been an accident. A fantastic one, but he had to make sure there were no more mistakes.

Judging by the narrowed look Cas was throwing his way, it was obvious the angel was picking up his stray thoughts.

“All that, and you’re going to leave me like this?” said Cas. _Like this_ , being expertly emphasized by a slow drag of his hips against Dean.

He bit his lip. “Fuck. Yes, I’m sorry. But hey, feel free to masturbate really loud tonight if you want.”

“Sam might hear it.”

Dean threw his hands out. “I don’t even care.”

“You might if I wind up shouting your name.”

Wouldn’t that be a sight? Fuck. As much as Dean was having one of the best nights within recent memory, going home and getting into bed meant another night tucked away.

Tomorrow, he remembered, would include some serious making out. Tongue action galore. Like downright fucking Cas’ mouth with his tongue. Throw some biting in there.

“Ok. Let’s go home. I’ll lay in bed while you masturbate and make sure to scream into your pillow if you need to. But tomorrow … you better be rested because I’m going to attack you with some PG-13 rated action.”

Tilting his head as he thought it over, Cas eventually grinned, took Dean’s hand and led them through the crowd. “You should know, Dean. I could masturbate all night and still have energy for whatever you have planned tomorrow.”

Dean swallowed. Wasn’t that an enticing bit of knowledge. So much for Dean getting any fucking sleep tonight.

When they found their way to the front bar, Sam was nowhere to be seen.

Looking around for someone tall, Dean finally picked him out amongst a vibrant group of women. Actually, what looked to be a bachelorette party. They were practically falling into Sam’s lap. Every one of them drunk and throwing herself at his brother.

Sam was fractionally sober enough to feel Dean’s stare on him and looked up. If Cas hadn’t yanked his hand out of Dean’s hold, he might not have remembered they were freaking holding hands. Yeesh. So much for being stealthy.

Thankfully, Sam didn’t seem to notice. At least, judging by the way he was smirking like he’d beat Dean at his own game. For a short minute, Sammy looked just like he did when he was about thirteen. All fired up and mostly innocent.

Guess the night out was needed more than he realized.

Outside, Dean refused to let Cas drive and demanded the booze be zapped gone so he could man the wheel. Five minutes of arguing passed until Cas ultimately relented.

Going from drunk to sober was like getting slapped by lunch meat. It was weird, and you were suddenly colder.

Sam, the drunkest Dean’d seen in a while, sang off-key in the backseat the entire way home. Cas acted like a fucking tease and discreetly rubbed at his own crotch, the corner of his lip curving on the edge of a grin.

Dean only let himself watch from the corner of his eye.

But later, back in the bunker, when he laid in bed naked and listened to the dim moans he occasionally heard all muffled through the vent, Dean grabbed at the blankets and groaned in frustration.

He was _not_ going to touch himself. For chrissakes, he already got a little somethin-somethin’ on the dance floor.

Masturbation was _not_ necessary. He could wait. He could fucking wait.

Dean cursed, tossing and turning. The urge to scream clawed at him. Never before had a need claimed him so completely.

It was past one in the morning when he received a text.

All it said was, “ _Touch yourself.”_

For whatever insane purpose, Dean was adamant to hold off. Tapping angrily on his phone, he wrote, “ _I’ll be fine.”_

Whatever willpower he had, died the moment his eyes scanned the next message.

“ _My request is not up for debate. Touch yourself … or else.”_

As Dean’s hand hastily slipped under the blankets, his mind spun with thoughts of what the ‘or else’ could possibly be. Images of Cas tying him up, just as he’d been taunting Dean with, played across his mind. And then worse, a thought of Cas holding him down and smacking his ass until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Oh, Christ.

Dean wasn’t gentle or slow as he jacked himself off. Not exactly quiet either. Given how drunk Sam was, the kid was probably passed out anyway.

Fuck common decency. Unleashing whatever sounds his throat was set on making, Dean let it happen. He gripped his cock and pumped it as fast as his hand would go.

Endorphins flooded his system and he felt his balls tighten up against his body. His cock flinched under his fingers, his chest heaving as he panted towards release.

As he climaxed, his hips jerking upwards, he cried out, “Uhn … Fuuuuck.”

Repetitions of the f-word breathlessly fell from his mouth as he continued to coax the orgasm to completion, come coating his hand and leaving the sheet resting over him damp and sticky.

 _Suppose you don't want to come clean me up again, huh?_ he prayed.

Half asleep, Dean read the text when it pinged.

“ _The next time I clean you up it’ll be with my tongue.”_

Now there's an image to fall asleep to. Shit. Merry fucking Cheesemas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a Christmas tree today :) Plan on decorating tonight, watching xmas movies, eating cookies, and of course ... writing porn. What better way to spend an evening, right??!!?


	8. On The Seventh Day of Cheesemas, Let There Be Some Tongue Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making out doesn't always go as planned. Dean has some rules of course, ensuring they don't take things too far too soon. But that doesn't mean they can't bend the rules a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way to be lax on the rules, Dean....
> 
> Beta'd by FaeGentry and Tennyo :) Thanks ladies!
> 
> xoxoxox

What a fabulous morning.

Dean woke up with a fucking smile on his face. Because today was the day he was going to get inside Cas with at least  _some_  part of himself. That part might only be his tongue, but heck, it was better than the zilch he’d gotten so far.

Throwing the blankets off, he started to whistle. Part of him was tempted to add a little jig to his walk as he got dressed but that was a tad excessive, wasn’t it?

Fuck it.

Dean shook his ass a little as he meandered from the closet to the dresser in search of comfortable clothing. The kind of clothing one might want to wear during some serious making out action. Clothes that would no doubt be rubbing, twisting, getting bunched.

Man, he almost couldn’t wait.

When he’d pegged today as the day for tonsil-hockey, he made a plan to head out in the Impala again. Otherwise, being attached to Cas’ face all day might raise some flags with Sam.

Pulling on some jogging pants (yes jogging pants, because they would feel fantastic and loose if he got hard) a dim headache plagued the back of his head from the booze and grinding the night before.

Just as he was dragging on a t-shirt over his head, his door swung inward. The shirt settled and of course, standing before him, was Cas.

“You promised today,” was all the angel said.

Dean opened his mouth. “Yeah but—”

And that was as far as he got. Cas launched himself into the room, expertly managing to kick the door shut in the process and was on Dean instantly.

Literally  _on_  him, the force of it punching the air out of his lungs with an  _oomph_.

Lips squashed hard against his, legs locked around his hips (yes, Cas had jumped up for the attack), and arms secured around his neck.

Magnetized Horny Monkey Angel was about the sum of it.

Before he could regain his bearings, Cas was yanking his hair to guide his head back. It forced his lips apart and the first taste of Cas exploded across his tongue. A startled, embarrassing moan rose up out of his throat and his arms found their way around Cas’ body to hold on—not that Cas needed any help staying right where he was.

As if the kiss wasn’t hard enough, Cas palmed the back of his head and held him in place as he angled for a deeper kiss. It was thought-dulling to have Cas’ lips, now slick with spit, plastered to his, moving together and apart with each shift. The slick warmth of Cas’ tongue pushing into his mouth was quickly driving him mad.

Coming back to some semblance of reality, Dean remembered they were in his room and yeah, having Cas wrapped around him was fucking fantastic, but they needed to get goddamn horizontal.

And how convenient, that there should be a bed a couple feet back. What was he thinking when he’d made the plan to tongue-fuck in the Impala? All that limited space would be frustrating. For this, they needed a flat, soft surface, and absolutely no encumbrances.

Just thinking of it dragged a rough moan across his lips. Cas growled low and nipped his bottom lip in response.

Tripping backwards in the midst of the assaulting kiss, Dean stumbled until the bed bumped his calves and they fell back together with a whoosh.

The sloppy, biting kiss broke off as their bodies crashed with the force of the drop, but it was brief. Dean looked up and met Cas’ eyes for a short second, muttering, “Fuck,” before his hand was gripping the back of Cas’ neck and drawing him back down for more.

Just before their lips met again, he remembered to suck back some oxygen. Sure enough, making out with Cas would be like diving underwater: disorienting, to say the least. But in the most awesome way.

Damn, Cas’ lips were smooth. Smoother than Dean expected. And the wet heat of his mouth was both wetter and hotter than any other kiss he’d ever had. It was the kind of mouth that would feel damn good sucking on his cock.

Abruptly, Cas drew back and smiled at him. “Now that’s an idea.”

A whimper left him before he could stop it. “Don’t fucking tempt me. Making out is as far as today goes.”

“Maybe,” Cas rolled his hips down and, _goddammit_ , Dean was gonna have the worst case of blue balls in history. “Accidents can happen. You know, like what happened to you yesterday at the bar.”

Yes, because that was something to be proud of, he thought sarcastically.

“How about this,” he suggested. “If you can make yourself come by grinding on top of me—by all fucking means, have at it!”

Sporting a cocky smile, Cas shifted; spreading his legs and seating himself so that their groins were precisely on top of each other and experiencing maximum contact. Apparently the angel was determined.

Who was Dean to stop him?

With less urgency, Cas bent over him and captured his mouth, teasingly prying his lips apart and slipping a tongue inside. Dean strained at the invasion—it was nothing short of incredible. In the slowest circuit, Cas licked around his tongue, up towards the roof of his mouth and pulled at his bottom lip before diving in again. No other kiss had ever felt so erotic.

Fingers sank into his short hair, Cas’ blunt nails scraping over his scalp. It sent waves of tingles coursing down his spine. Just as Cas pulled back to shift his attack on Dean’s mouth, he felt the hard press of Cas’ lower body dragging over his erect cock.

The rush of pleasure drained the air from his lungs and he twisted out of the kiss to haul back a needed breath.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. Not that Cas was ready to give him a moment’s break.

With an erotic groan that shot straight to Dean’s ass, Cas closed his eyes and rolled his hips down again. Only then did Dean notice Cas was wearing PJ pants.  _Thin PJ pants._

And the solid weight jutting out against the fabric was being roughly dragged over Dean’s crotch. Each touch drew another rough sound from Cas’ throat.

God- _fucking_ -damn. Seeing Cas get himself off like this made Dean see stars.

Kissing had been momentarily abandoned in favour of outright dry-humping. Dean watched in fascination. His stare fixed on the fluttering eyelids that animated Cas’ otherwise frozen expression.

One more groan—louder than the rest—and Cas stopped to fall forward, planting his hands flat on the bed at either side of Dean’s ears.

Their eyes locked. In that span of breath, Dean knew it would be so easy to just say: Fuck it. And rip each other’s clothes off.

“We could,” suggested Cas, the angel’s voice deliciously rougher than normal. Dean couldn’t wait to hear how it sounded after some particular activities.

Dean unclenched his fingers from their death grip on Cas’ shirt and slid them up his sides. “Not yet, Cas. Just—”

Whatever word was on the tip of his tongue died when Cas thrust down and pinned him with a look full of heat and maybe an aggravated threat.

Dean arched up for a kiss, a moan flowing out the second their tongues slid together again. How had he managed to miss that in the short few moments without it?

Dropping down to his elbows, Cas got comfier on top of him and didn’t hold back. Dean felt trapped against the bed, hips pinned, succumbing to the tortuous, coarse grind against his clothed cock. His mouth stayed open and willing, letting Cas taste him, enjoying the occasional pinch of teeth nipping his swollen lips.

At some point, his arms wound up over his head. Cas had taken the advantage and gripped between his fingers, pressing their combined fists into the pillows.

Heat rose in the room to nearly unbearable levels. Sweat dampened Dean’s clothes. He drew up his knees and pressed his thighs against Cas’ ass, getting purchase with his feet to shove up into Cas’ repeated downward thrusts.

In the fleeting gaps between kisses, Dean inhaled sharply and swore. Every “ _Fuck_ ” that worked itself out between their spit-slick lips was like another notch of defeat towards his will falling apart.

Oh God, he was gonna cave, wasn’t he? It was too good.

Out of nowhere, Cas growled a sharp, frustrated sound and pulled back, freeing Dean’s hands. It didn’t surprise him at all that Cas fumbled down for the hem of his shirt and started trying to shove it off.

Dean grabbed his wrists. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. We’re not having sex.”

Angrily, Cas rubbed against him and threw his head back out of frustration. “Why are you trying to kill us?!” he shouted.

The picture of it cracked him up. Dean laughed and reached up for Cas’ face, pulling him back down.

Giving the angel a soft peck on the mouth, he sandwiched Cas’ cheeks and held his stare. “Babe, trust me, I am  _dying_  to have you fuck me six ways from Sunday but all in due time.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “All in due time!? It’s been ‘ _due time_ ’ now for fucking years, Dean. And—” Cas stopped short and tilted his head as if something had suddenly occurred to him. “Wait a minute … you want me to? To … fuck you?”

There was blushing, and then there was Dean’s face pretending it was a furnace. He gave Cas a shy lopsided grin and shrugged. “Um … is that … problematic?”

Cas licked his lips, his eyes quickly roaming over Dean’s body and back up to his face. “Dean,” he took a slow breath, “you letting me be with you that way…” Cas shook his head slightly. “Not in any known universe would that ever be a problem.”

All this talk of fucking had gotten him hot. Uncomfortably so. Dean set his resolve and grabbed Cas’ shoulders. “Okay, let’s negotiate. Now that you know what you’ll be getting”—Dean winked—“I’m willing to discuss the removal of some clothing for today’s events on the grounds that you promise me you won’t try to take things further. And I mean that! No hands or mouths on any downstairs parts. Got it?”

Cas squinted. “What about this?” In a fraction of a second, Cas’ palm was cupped around Dean’s cock over his pants.

Before he managed to figure out the words and English thing again, he pressed up and shamelessly moaned, biting down on his own lip.

“That’s…” he faltered, eyes closing and hips rising again. “That’s, uh, okay… that’s okay.”

Taking his hand away, Cas smirked down at him. “Do you know how easily I could banish your clothes into non-existence?”

“I have some idea,” he muttered, his voice sounding weak. Damn, Cas could take control of this whole thing so easily. Dean would love to let Cas be in command of him. It would be so perfect...

“Dean,” Cas said his name hard, eyes boring into him. “Thinking things like that won’t help our situation.”

Right. “At most, we’re only allowed to get down to boxers. And not all at once. Those are my terms— take ‘em or leave ‘em?”

Skimming a thumb over his lip, Cas smiled and nodded. “Deal. Should we seal that with a kiss?”

“Fucking right.”

Cas crashed down on his mouth in a breath-stealing attack. He felt his shirt being rucked up and the coolness of the room-temperature air drafted over his stomach and across his ribs.

“Up,” Cas mouthed against his lips. Dean flexed his abs and levered his upper body off the bed, breaking off the kiss so Cas could pull the t-shirt over his head.

When he slumped back to the mattress, Cas was sitting up and gazing down at his chest. Not that Cas hadn’t seen him shirtless before, but the context changed everything.

Clearly wanting to absorb the moment, Cas traced his fingers over the planes of his muscles and the shape of his torso. Nails scraped over his chest and down the softness of his belly until they stopped at the flat waistband of the jogging pants.

He couldn’t help but quiver under the attention. With a soft smile, radiating appreciation, Cas leaned over to plant his mouth with a hard kiss and then shuffled down on the bed.

The new position trapped his legs between Cas’ thighs and allowed places other than his mouth to be available for some tongue action.

Throwing Dean a devilish grin, Cas ducked down towards his chest and laved at his nipple. Dean’s cock throbbed, pushing up against his jogging pants. Fuck, it wanted out! How soon could he justify taking his pants off?

Four seconds?

Maybe too soon.

God in Hell. Cas’ lips were pinching at the nub, his tongue flicking it, teeth scraping over the sensitive flesh. Dean felt precome dampen the inside of his boxers, and it dragged wet over the tip of his cock.

“Oh fuck, stop,” he pleaded.

Cas barely pulled off, his breath puffing over his skin as he spoke. “Do you actually want me to stop or do you want me to continue?”

Straining, trying to draw his knees up for no real reason Dean remembered he couldn’t because his legs were being held down by the weight of Cas’ body. Dean whimpered and thrashed impatiently. “Fuck, this is ridiculous! And no, I don’t want you to stop. I never fucking want you to stop!”

Dean suddenly laughed. “When we actually have sex, I’m probably going to die.”

Dabbing his chest with a series of quick kisses, Cas made his way up to his throat and kissed his chin, kissed his mouth and finally replied, “Well, I suppose if you did succumb to a heart attack resulting from the intensity, I should at least have enough power to bring you back.”

Dean blanched. “ _Should_?!” Well, shit, here’s hoping he wouldn’t have a coronary during the deed.

“Dean, given the uncertainty of the world right now, my power should never be considered an absolute guarantee.”

No way was this sudden conversation about to take away from whatever kind of madness was going on. Trying not to be rude, Dean reached for the hem of Cas’ white t-shirt and pulled. “I think it’s time to get you a little more naked.”

“Are you avoiding discussion about the frail state of the world?” Half of his words were muffled as Dean managed to tug the shirt over Cas’ head and throw it in the general direction of the door.

“I’m not avoiding anything,” he shot back. “Can you please get back to what you were doing?”

“Teasing you relentlessly?” Cas grinned.

“Yes. And don’t look so fucking smug, buddy. Your turn’s coming.”

On the heels of an eager groan that might otherwise sound threatening, Cas fell back on top of him—now wearing nothing above the waist.

Having the sudden skin-on-skin certainly upped the intensity. It wasn’t long before Dean lost track of time. Fuck, come to think of it, he was losing track of everything.

They continued to rut against each other, tongues stroking side-by-side, lips becoming swollen and tingly from the constant pressure.

Dean was starting to feel the heat build low in his belly. A tightness was pulling at him, urging him to rub harder and faster, his mind screaming at him to yank his pants off.

“That’s it!” Cas stated firmly, sitting up and crawling downward. Grabbing the edge his waistband, the angel started dragging his pants down his legs—Dean’s boxers nearly going along with them.

“Hey!” Dean scolded, reaching to grab the navy Hanes boxer briefs and keep them on, despite the fact that his erection was notably trying to escape of its own will.

So much for clothes coming off slowly.

Dean wasn’t given the opportunity to undress Cas’ last “permitted item of removal,” because the angel had taken it upon himself to push them down himself.

_Slowly_.

Standing at the end of the bed, Cas’ fingers hooked into the top band and began dragging them down an inch at a time, his own boxers sliding lower.

Dean opened his mouth to stop Cas, but it was that moment they both realized something. The rules didn’t negate touching themselves. And even if the boxers stayed on, there was nothing stopping Cas from slipping his hand inside.

After Cas’ thin PJ pants fell to the ground, he held Dean’s blazing stare and tucked his fingers just inside the top of his boxers. “Is this permitted?”

Dean cursed. “It is now!”

It was horrible in a way, because Dean couldn’t actually see anything. Just the repeated motion of Cas moving his hand inside his own underwear, clearly stroking his cock, feeling it’s hard weight.

Goddamn, Dean couldn’t wait to get his mouth on that.

“Oh, when does that happen?” Cas wondered.

Dean laughed. “Get the hell out of my head, ya creeper.”

“Stop thinking about sex at top volume.”

File that under the column of ‘Impossible’. Dean let his hand reach down and gave his own aching erection a cursory stroke, breathing a sigh of relief at having even an ounce of tension melt out of him.

“Come back to bed,” he requested, half-sitting up and extending a hand.

Extracting his hand from his now-stretched boxers, Cas took the offered hand and climbed back on the bed, rolling onto his back.

Dean’s brain stuttered to a halt at the image of Cas laid out over his comforter. He would need to blowtorch his brain to ever get that sight out of his memory banks. Not that he'd ever want to.

Smiling to himself, feeling endlessly grateful that Cas wanted him at all, he climbed on top of his angel and stared down at him in awe.

The words—the ones he was waiting to say—hovered in the air between them. He could feel them trapped in his throat.

Instead of jumping the gun on that bullet, he bit his lip and looked into Cas’ blue eyes with every ounce of emotion he had swimming around inside of him.

He took Cas’ face in his hands and started to kiss him, lowering his body down slow, brushing their cotton-clad erections together for the first time with so few barriers between them.

There were no comparisons to how amazing it was. The weirdest strangled sound mumbled past his lips and into Cas’ mouth, almost some kind of desperate sob. A moan left Cas in response; a deep, gravelly sound that Dean loved hearing.

Remembering that touching over clothes had been deemed acceptable, he shifted his weight to the side, and reached low between their hips. Dean sank his tongue into Cas’ mouth as he rubbed his palm over Cas’ straining erection.

A harsh exhale burst out between them and Cas’ hips rammed up under him. It was as if a levee had broken. Chaos broke out, and before Dean could comprehend how they’d gone from slow, soft touches to straining and rough grabs and sharp kisses, it was happening. It was falling apart around him.

There were past the point of letting casual banter and chit-chat spontaneously interrupt the moment.

It probably sounded like they were having sex. And, even though there was no penetration of that sort, he’d never experienced anything sexual like this before. Being turned on by Cas was like being drunk.

Dean had fallen towards Cas’ side, lips brushing Cas’ ear as his hand worked Cas towards release. As promised, there was no skin-on-skin, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the shape; the broad width of Cas’ cock, the ridge that marked the crown and the plump head that was leaking precome enough to seep through the fabric and slick up Dean’s fingers.

Skirting lower, he dragged a finger back and forth between the two weights of Cas’ sac and cupped the fullness of it in his palm, wishing he could feel the delicate softness of the skin, wondering if Cas were feverish and turned on enough to be slick down there with sweat.

Goddamn, Dean would fucking bury his face down there for an hour if he could. He’d suck and lick and do everything imaginable to Cas until the angel screamed in pleasure.

“Dean,” panted Cas next to him. “Dean…”

Nibbling at Cas’ earlobe, he groaned back at the sound of his name and let his hand drift back up to Cas’ length and stroked it rough, squeezing towards the tip.

“Oh, oh... Mmm, keep—keep doing that.”

“Yes, sir,” he breathed into Cas’ ear, loving the resulting wave of shivers that rolled through Cas’ frame.

It was pathetic to realize that he was thrusting against Cas’ hip in time with the speed of his fist, his breath exhaling hot over the side of Cas’ face, his nose skimming against the now damp hair, all mussed from rubbing against the pillow.

“You were supposed to come grinding on top of me, remember?” he teased.

Cas’ left hand flew to Dean’s forearm and gripped hard. “Don’t stop,” he begged. It was exciting to discover he could bring Cas down from naughty threats to desperate pleas.

_Don’t worry,_ he prayed,  _I’ll finish you off. Let go._

Shaking now, Cas unlocked his fingers around Dean’s arm and laid back flat on the bed like he was giving himself over.

Putting the majority of his attention into working Cas just right, Dean jacked him off over his underwear as best as he could. As he felt Cas clenching up for release, he focused more on the head, the grip of his half-fist tightening and loosening, up and down, twisting at random.

“C’mon,” he said against Cas’ ear, his eyes drawn to Cas’ beautiful profile. “Fuck, Cas, come for me. Please come for me.”

“Uhn—” Cas trembled, on edge. “Unh, fuck … Dean…”

The moment Cas’ hand was grabbing for his arm again, he knew it would be over in seconds. Cas shouted and started to shudder against his hand, the warm release spilling into the tight cotton boxer-briefs, leaking through the cheap fabric.

Dean panted for breath against Cas, kissing his cheek and neck as elation roared through him. And he wasn’t even the one in the clutches of an orgasm.

When Cas’ entire frame went lax, and a long exhale passed his thick lips, Dean was struck with pride.

Fucking right, he did that.

“I don’t know what that was,” he said, chuckling, “but if that was us making out— I can’t wait for Wednesday.”

Cas tried to sit up but groaned and fell back to the bed. “What’s Wednesday?” Cas wondered tiredly.

“You’ll see!” Dean said happily and tapped Cas on the mouth with his finger.

…

Laying comfortably a few minutes later, Dean was just starting to relax from the high of it all, when his door burst open and Sam stormed in. “I fucking can’t find—”

Sam froze, eyes bulging.

“...Cas,” he completed his sentence and simply stood there.

Dean jerked up into a sitting position and opened his mouth. “Uh.”

Beside him, Cas had pulled the edge of the comforter over his groin. Granted, Sam had probably already seen the state of that area.

“I’d go with:  _This isn’t what it looks like_ ,” Dean began, “But it’s kind of exactly what it looks like, so how about you peel your jaw off my floor and take a few steps back, maybe shut the door and go somewhere that’s not here. We’ll talk later.”

Sam blinked dumbly for a couple seconds, closed his mouth and said, “Um, uh, yeah. Oh-okay.” Stumbling in reverse to the open door, his baby brother started to laugh; slow, surprised chuckles scrunching up his face. “Didn’t-didn’t mean to, uh, inter”—more laughter—“interrupt.”

Into the hall now, Sam smirked, saluted them and pulled the door shut.  

Sighing in relief and reservation, Dean looked at Cas. “Crap. I better go talk to him.”

Cas frowned. “Will we get to do more of this after?”

Fucking eager-beaver. “Maybe. Spending the whole day doing this with you might drive me insane if I can’t take it all the way, so why don’t I go talk to Sammy, and then maybe get some food cause I’m fucking starving, and we’ll make sure the world’s not crashing and burning outside the door, and then go from there?”

As if he hadn’t said all that, Cas shoved off the blankets and swung his legs to the side of the bed, stood up and said, “We should buy lube today.”

Choking … Dean was choking. On nothing but air. “ _Ah-hmng_. What now?”

“If the intention is to have sex at some point, presumably towards Christmas, should we not purchase whatever we need for the occasion? I mean, stores are often closed on the holiday, are they not?”

Leave it to Cas to be practical after an orgasm. And geez, didn’t the angel realize that Dean had planned every moment of his Cheesemas plan. Like he’d go and forget  _that_ _!_

Or more like he already had it because every now and then he liked to switch things up when he masturbated. But hey, it still counted as being prepared.

“Don’t worry, Cas—I got it covered.”

“Is it flavoured?” Cas asked, staring at him with total and sincere curiosity.

Dean scrunched his face. “Um, no? Do you … want it to be flavoured?” This was _soooo_ encroaching on tomorrow’s discussion, he thought, but he was so confused, he just couldn’t not find out why Cas was so intrigued by flavoured lube.

Was he planning to slick Dean’s cock and ass up with grape-flavoured deliciousness?

“No,” answered Cas succinctly. “I was asking because I’d rather not have artificial flavours mask your natural taste.”

And what the fuck was he supposed to say to that? Dodging the comment entirely, Dean got off the bed. “Yeah, I’m gonna go talk to Sam.”

Dressed and on his way out the door, Cas caught up to him and closed Dean in a hug from behind, lips kissing the back of his neck.

“Happy Cheesemas, Dean.”

Chuckling and shaking his head, Dean raised one of Cas’ hands to his mouth and kissed it. “Same to you, Cas.”

Leaving his room to go and find Sam was like stepping out of one dimension into another. The lingering feel of Cas’ mouth and cloth-covered cock was like a haze around his body, and the fresher air in the hallway left him feeling out of sorts. He imagined it would feel the same as if he’d stepped out of a dream.

Sam was in the kitchen pouring milk into a bowl of cereal. Dean glanced at the clock to find it was sometime just before lunch.

No wonder he was fucking starving.

Neither brother said a word as Dean went to fix himself some cereal as well. Bowl filled, spoon at the ready, Dean sat down and they simultaneously looked up at each other.

“Long story short, Cas and I are…” What were they doing exactly? Were they firmly together now? As in a couple. A couple of horny motherfuckers, but … a couple?

Sam shot him a flat look. “... Fucking?” he suggested.

Dean scoffed. “Dude! I’m a gentleman, thank you very much! No, Cas and I are not  _fucking_. We are partaking in a wonderful, inaugural holiday event called Cheesemas.”

Eyebrows denting inward, putting his spoon down, Sam stared across the table. “What the fuck is Cheesemas?”

Checking to make sure Cas wasn’t in earshot, Dean whispered, _“It’s my super suave plan of cheesiness that will result in Cas and I being officially a thing. Any questions?”_

“Are you fucking high?”

Snapping back and smacking his own metal utensil on the table, he glared at his brother. “No, I’m not high! I’m fucking in love, jackass! And I got sick and tired of life being real goddamn shitty, and I thought, ya know what, I’m gonna do something I wouldn’t normally do because it’s Christmas and because I’ve actually been listening to all your damn chatter about ‘ _Finding someone…’_  yadda, yadda and the fact is, I already had,” Dean shrugged, “was just too friggin’ chicken-shit to act on it.”

Sam half-smiled. “Uh, yeah, I  _know_  you were too chicken-shit to act on it. That’s why I’m sitting here in a state of shock, jerk. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled. You’ve been mad in love with Cas for years—“

“Whoa. Back up the train,” Dean interrupted. “You know how I’ve felt about Cas?”

A sharp mocking laugh rocked Sam’s overgrown body. “Dude,” he said plainly. “Really? Do you seriously think I didn’t know? I’ve been, like, three feet away from you since I was born. I know everything about you, Dean!” Sam was laughing now. “I know that it killed you when you thought Cas was gone forever. I know that you  _looooove_ him. I know that everything about what we do depresses you more than you’ll ever admit … Dean, I’m your brother, and just because you don’t talk to me about stuff doesn’t mean I don’t know anyway.”

Well then.

“Alrighty.” Dean picked up his spoon and scooped up a mountainous bite of Froot Loops. Shoving it into his mouth, cold milk dropping into his empty belly, he shrugged. “Guess that’s that then,” he mumbled in the middle of chewing.

“So, now that I know? Are you gonna tell me the whole plan? It seems like you’ve got a whole thing going for this, uh, Cheesemas holiday thing.”

Dean swallowed and smiled. “Dude, it’s awesome.” Not to toot his own horn or anything, but like, c’mon now.

His brother made a face, but he clearly found the whole thing amusing. “I haven’t seen you this happy in really long time.”

Ugh, here goes with the feelings crap. Dean groaned. “Can the emotional _ooh-aww_ shit, will ya?”

“Fine. So give me the non-gross details!”

As shameful as it was to admit, Dean felt himself get all puffed up with happiness. He actual sat straighter and smiled wider. And then, he told Sam nearly everything. He told him how it started, when he’d gone and made his decision.

And then all about the Twelve Days concept. Skipping the naughtier bits, he told Sam all of what he’d done so far. Sam apologized for interrupting on such a specific day, commenting of course on how what they were doing didn’t qualify as making out.

Dean flung a spoonful of Froot Loops at him.

Sometime later, Dean went looking for Cas. Finding the angel curled over a book in the library, Dean pulled him out of the chair, dragged him towards the back of the room and into a shadowed nook and made out with him until his lips were sore.

It broke all the rules, but Cas stayed in Dean’s bed that night.

Sleepy, on the verge of almost-unconscious, Dean asked, “Do you sleep, Cas?”

The angel brushed his temple with a kiss, stroked into his hair and answered, “Only if I want to. Right now, I’m quite content to watch you.”

“Creepy,” he mumbled, too out of it to really care.

“Shall I stop playing with your hair then?”

Dean grimaced. “No,” he groaned, nudging his head into Cas’ touch.

“Then it’s settled.”

And so Cas continued to play with Dean’s hair, and Dean didn't give a shit that the guy stayed up and watched him sleep like a stalker.

Besides … Cas was a guardian angel and all. He was just doing his duty! Dean shouldn’t deprive him of his mission.

And, hmm, Cas’ fingers made him tingly.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. That one was fun to write. I'll just go take a cold shower now. BYE


	9. On The Eighth Day of Cheesemas, Let There Be No Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wanted Cas to know his secrets, it terrified him but he was willing to open himself up no matter the consequences. Revealing secrets he was ready for. Revealing deepest wishes on the other hand? That was a hard one to let free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Q&A between our beloved two boys. A little more bending of the rules ... and Cas finds out about something that Dean wants.

What on earth was touching him?

Dean focused on the subtle tickle nagging at his shoulder blade. Sleep lingered in his mind, turning everything fuzzy and—

Eyes flaring wide, bolting up into a sitting position, Dean turned to the side of the bed with a knife in his hand.

“Shit!” he exclaimed the moment he saw Cas, staring up frozen in surprise. “Sorry. _Jesus_. I’m not used to sleeping with someone. I forgot you were here.”

“It’s fine. I should’ve been expecting it.”

Dean hung his head. “What a way to wake up, huh? You sure you want to go down this path with me?”

Leave it to Cas to fucking beam up at him. “Absolutely.”

With his heart settling back down, Dean tucked the blade back under his pillow and laid on his back. He could feel Cas watching him … waiting.

“Something on your mind over there?” he asked.

Cas shifted towards him and he felt the brush of fingers trace a line down his chest. “Just wondering what today will be like.” Leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, Cas continued, “Yesterday was … very, very good.”

Dean smiled and stretched, a yawn rising out of his throat. “Hmm,” he said by way of acknowledgment. Though, it would’ve been way better had he remembered to get himself off somehow too. As it happened, his balls were pretty fucking sore at the moment.

Part of him was nervous for today. The reason being that, depending on how things went, whatever they’d built so far could very well come to a swift and grinding halt as a result of today’s events.

“What are you worried about?”

Dean felt the concerned stare on the side of his face. He took a breath and divulged his plan. “Q and A,” he answered succinctly. God, why had he put that one in there? Fucking attempt at honesty. Bullshit.

“Questions and answers?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I’m giving you a free pass. You can ask me anything you want today and I’ll give you an honest answer, and if I can’t … it’s because I physically can’t.”

“What, like, you’re under a spell?” From the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas tilt his head and scour Dean for clues of witchcraft.

He almost laughed. “No,” he corrected. “Not like that, I mean…” God, what did he mean? “There’s just … things that I can’t discuss because it’s too hard. I can’t … get the words out. Understand?”

“Give me an example?”

Dean drew in a needed breath. “Hell.” Not very verbose of an answer, but it would do.

Just saying it, remembering all the things he couldn’t talk about it. It made him want to curl up and turn away from the familiar blue eyes that always looked at him so affectionately. If only Cas knew what he’d done…

And that, right there, was why today made him nervous.

“Dean,” Cas said softly, brushing a hand back over his head and laying a kiss on his forehead. “I know everything about Hell. I found you there. I touched your soul when it was brought to its lowest, darkest time. None of what happened is your fault.”

Wrong. A lot of the things he’d done had been of his own free will. “Some of it,” he argued.

“None of it.” Cas spoke in a hard, steely tone. “Look at me.”

Biting the inside of his lip nervously, he finally twisted his neck to find Cas’ eyes. They were intense. And so blue this early in the morning.

“Doing what you did to avoid another second of torture is not considered free will, Dean. It was _all_ torture … every moment of it. Some was just easier to endure.”

Agree to disagree he wanted to say. But he knew it might start an argument and that was the last thing he wanted. “Remember me saying there were things I couldn’t talk about—Can we please move on to something else? It doesn’t have to be something bright and happy, just _not_ Hell.”

Cas agreed and shuffled around under the blankets until he was lying on top of Dean. Not, seemingly, for the purpose of starting things up but to get cozy for the long haul. Setting his eyes on Dean’s face, he crossed his arms over Dean’s chest and rested his chin.

“Comfortable?” asked Dean.

“Yes. First question: When did this start for you?” Of course, the “ _this_ ” he was referring to was them.

Come to think of it, Dean had to mull on that one. “When you mean start? Do you mean attraction or do you mean the more… ooey gooey feelings?”

Cas chuckled. “Both.”

“Alright. ‘Member in Bobby’s kitchen right after we met?”

“Not Bobby’s kitchen,” Cas corrected. “In your dream.”

“Whatever. You know what I mean. Anyway, you were … intimidating. Not to mention you didn’t exactly grasp the concept of personal space”—Dean squinted at their current position and snorted—”Not that you’ve learned anything there. But that was the first time I, sort of, _reacted_ to you.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Cas echoed the word, “ _Reacted_?”

Dean simply cleared his throat and humped up against Cas, knowing his partial erection would be evident.

“Ah.” Cas acknowledged.

“Yeah, so, attraction started pretty quick. You’re scary powerful and it doesn’t hurt that you’re damn hot.”

Cutting things short, Dean noticed that Cas was looking away, his expression all wrong. Something was definitely bothering him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I just realized that if I’d taken a different vessel, we might not be here right now.”

“Hey!” Dean grabbed his head and dragged him up so they were face to face. “Yes we would be. You know why?”

The only response Dean got was a despondent shrug.

“When you left Jimmy?” Dean started. “I felt nothing. Deep down, I knew you weren’t there anymore and he was someone else suddenly. I didn’t find him appealing at all!”

“Really?”

“Really. What was the next question?”

Cas settled back in his original position propped on Dean’s chest and said, “You didn’t answer the second part of the first question yet.”

Oh right. The feeeeelings part. When did his heart start to flip flop like a fish out of water? “I don’t think there was one particular moment. It sort of … built up. I denied it for as long as I could. I think when you were fighting Raphael though … and then pulled that shit with the Purgatory souls. I had a hard time with that. I knew by then what you were to me … so it hurt more.”

Man, question and answer period was depressing.  Dean was tempted to scrub today’s slate clean and go back to what they were doing yesterday.

It didn’t help matters that Cas looked like a kicked puppy. “I’m so sorry Dean, I—”

“No, Cas. No apologies today, okay? This is just an information back and forth deal. Everything bad that’s gone down between us— it’s gotta be water under the bridge now. We can’t move on if there are worries and regrets festering. I want to start this right. I’ve fucked up a lot of things in my life. I’ll be damned if I’ll let this be one of ‘em.”

Cas slithered up his body, their boxers dangerously riding up, and held Dean’s face as he unleashed a desperate kiss. A contented moan broke free and Dean spread his legs to let Cas settle nicely in the groove of his body.

Wrapping his arms around Cas’ neck, Dean held him close and warmed himself with the kiss. It was wet and exploratory, a lot of tongue and very little separation. Fuck it; he panted through his nose. It wasn't nearly enough oxygen, but who the hell cared.

His jaw began to hurt from keeping his mouth held wide enough to let Cas in as much as possible. At some point, Cas had started working his lower body against Dean, their loose boxers twisting and shifting … and, oh shit.

One subtle shift of fabric more and Dean’s bare cock would be rubbing against Cas’ naked skin.

He could’ve stopped.

He could’ve done something. But instead, Dean rode his hips up against the hot weight of Cas on top of him, working side to side a little to encourage his boxers to move the fuck out of the way.

And then it happened. His stiff sex slipped out the gap from all his movements and the head of his cock rubbed along the hot expanse of skin just above Cas’ _very_ low boxers. The fabric of which were doing a valiant job of trapping Cas’ erection.

It was the only thing separating them now.

The groan that escaped Dean was loud. _Embarrassingly loud_. Not that Cas seemed to give a shit. Before he could fathom what Cas was doing, the angel’s own boxers were nudged down just enough.

Every last molecule of oxygen was gone the moment Dean felt Cas’ cock, bare and hot, rub against his. He would’ve yelled— if he’d had the air to do so.

As it was … he came. And yes, it was fucking pathetic. One goddamn stroke and he was wrecked.

“Oh fuck,” Dean groaned, his mouth barely leaving Cas’ wet lips. His body shaking under all that jerking muscle on top of him, his balls almost sore as his release pulsed out onto his skin.

Still dizzy, he felt Cas’ lips and tongue plying his mouth, moaning into him as Cas rubbed at him a little longer until he was also done for.

Starved for air, Dean laid there making vain attempts to expand his lungs. But Cas had collapsed and everything was hot and sticky and, “Fuck, Cas, oxygen… get up.”

Grumbling, the sated angel eased off, his eyelids at half-mast. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Dean laughed and started to calm down. “No you’re not!”

Cas smiled down at him. “No … I’m not.”

“Ugh.” Dean grabbed Cas by the waist and hoisted him off. Getting out of the bed, he adjusted his boxers (which badly needed a change) and made his way to the closet. He wiped himself off with a towel, amazed at the sheer amount of come plastered all over his front. It _was_ both of them, but holy Christ.

Tossing the towel into a hamper, he looked back over his shoulder. Cas was sprawled on the bed, chest still heaving, eyes glued to the ceiling as if there was a TV up there.

“Keep your eyes on that ceiling. I’m changing and you already cheated once today! No more freebies for you.”

Cas sighed. “I’m sorry, Dean, but who was it exactly that wiggled out of their boxers first? Who was it that came first? Right … that would be you.”

Fuck. “Well.” Dean struggled for a witty retort. “You suck.” Good one, Dean. Stellar.

“Hmm, I’m betting not today, but I believe that will come soon … as will you I’m sure.”

Uh. What was he supposed to be doing? Right! Changing out of come-sticky boxers. Keeping his eyes on Cas to make sure he wasn’t looking, Dean chucked the soiled underwear and threw on a pair of gym shorts. When that was done, he realized Cas probably needed a change too.

“You need some clothes?”

Cas shot him a dumb look. His blue eyes drifted down to his own crotch and then suddenly … they were dry again. Dean scowled petulantly. “Well aren’t you special!”

“Not particularly. But I think I should put clothes on. Are we continuing the question and answer?

“Yes.” Although, Dean thought, Cas could easily ask questions half-naked. But evidently that posed some problems … judging by the fact that he would smell like ejaculate all day.

“Hmm, you do smell like sex,” Cas noted.

“Gee thanks.”

Hopefully Sam wouldn’t notice. It was one thing for the guy to know something was going on, but a whole other to actually smell come all over his brother. So, so gross.

Maybe Dean should shower?

“No! You’re fine,” Cas argued. “Put a sweater on, and we’ll leave your room and that should ensure no further accidents happen.”

Ten minutes later, wearing a baggy sweater, gym shorts and slippers, Dean followed Cas to the kitchen. As he made breakfast for himself and washed some berries for Cas to eat (who didn’t have to eat but was still a picky motherfucker), they continued the Q&A while Dean started on his own breakfast.

“How old were you the first hunt you went on?”

“Uh, well I went up against a Shtriga when I was eleven, but my dad didn’t officially take me out till I was sixteen.”

“When did you first have sex?”

“Seventeen.”

“With who?”

A smiled teased the corner of his mouth. “Amy Howser.”

“What’s scared you worse than anything else?”

Dean paused. All the questions so far had been easy. This one was harder. “The Mark.”

Not reacting one way or another, Cas popped a strawberry into his mouth and kept going. “What’s your favourite pastime … it can’t be anything related to hunting,” Cas pointed at him sternly.

He chuckled. “Uh, fuck. Can’t remember having much time for that sort of thing. At the moment, though, I guess … _you_.”

“No, Dean, it has to be an activity.”

“Pretty sure what we just did was most definitely an activity.”

“Dean!”

Gesturing with the spatula, Dean raised his arms in angry surrender. “Fine! I like fishing, okay! And yes, I know it’s lame but you know what, it’s relaxing and I still get to kill something so judge all ya want.”

“Oh. I knew that one actually.”

A vague memory of Cas in his dream dredged up from his memory banks. And yes, they’d had this conversation before. “Next,” he prompted, going back to his bacon and eggs on the stove.

“Favourite place.”

Instinct had him wanting to say home. Meaning, the home he knew with his mom. The home that was marked with warm smells and comfort. But that was no longer a place … it only existed in memory now.

“Here,” he decided to say.

“Me too,” Cas added.

Dean turned back to smile at him, the bacon sizzling away behind him. Fucking domestic bliss, he thought. Trying to get a hold on the stupid grin he knew he was sporting, he pulled his top lip into his mouth by his teeth and spun back to the stove.

“What are you scared of now?”

Without facing Cas, he said, “Getting short-changed with you. That maybe we’ll get somewhere and suddenly … Amara … or whatever-the-fuck will intervene and screw everything up.”

“What are you looking forward to now?”

The short answer, he thought? _Fucking!_ But Dean smirked and decided not to say that. “Official Cheesemas Day.”

Behind him, Cas chuckled and paused for only a second before the questions resumed. “Kinkiest sex you’ve ever had?”

Dean’s eyes flared a bit. Shit. He was floundering. This one was … slightly mortifying. “Uh…”

“You said you’d answer any question!” Cas reminded him.

“I’m getting there! Christ, hold your horses, would ya.” Now, how to phrase that properly? Would Cas even get it? “Um, tell me … have you watched any porn at all?”

Dean looked over his shoulder just in time to see Cas’ cheeks turn pink. Fucking stunning. “Yes,” he answered with his eyes set on the table like he were ashamed.

“Cas, do _not_ be ashamed for looking at porn. There’s a reason why it’s one of the most lucrative businesses in the world.” He paused and then let her rip, “And besides, you think that’s bad? Well … there was this chick once. And she was fucking damn hot, and I went to her place after we’d had a few drinks and we’d discussed some pretty kinky stuff over the course of the night under the influence of booze. Anyway, we get back to her place and things are progressing … and then she asks if I’m cool with toys. I’m like, fuck yeah,” Dean smiled as he remembered his first foray into the world of vibrators and restraints. “So … she’s uh … working me over and then says: _What about threesomes?_ ”

By the very red colour of Cas’ face, it was quite clear he was picturing it all. Dean would’ve been remiss to not paint him a glorious picture. “So there I am, on all fours, with her pegging me—You know what that is right?” Cas nodded and swallowed. “And the chick’s husband, or boyfriend—I don’t know—walks in and takes one look at us and starts taking his clothes off.”

Dean loved the shade of jealousy in Cas’ expression. So damn hot. He kept talking, “She asked if I was cool with everything, and I went for it. And before I knew it, they were just using me, like I was some other sex toy for them to get off on, and it was fucking awesome. A threesome isn’t exactly kinky, and it wasn’t that specifically, it was the way it happened. It was what they did,” Dean shivered as he thought about it, “and … now I’m picturing you doing all that to me … and...”

And he was burning the bacon!

“Fuck!” Dean rounded back to the stove, bumping against the handle of the oven with his boner, and started hastily forking the blackened bacon out of the spitting pan. Well, his breakfast was ruined. But at least the sexual tension between him and Cas was in fine condition.

“I have the sudden desire to use every last ounce of my power to go back in time and watch that for myself.”

Hearing Cas’ voice, Dean turned back and smiled. “You could, but if you used up all your power, you wouldn’t be able to come back and get me on all fours yourself.”

“Oh god!” Sam groaned from the open archway. “My bleeding ears!”

“Oh, relax,” Dean waved the greasy spatula at his brother. “You were bound to hear something eventually! It could’ve been worse.”

The questions shut down during the rest of breakfast. The three of them shared a meal, albeit not a very good meal, and drifted towards the main room a while later to try and spend time on their current problem at hand.

Dean, figuring it was honesty day, brought up the idea that had come up recently.

“Ok, I’ve got something out of left field. It could result in nothing but...” He shrugged lamely.

“What?” Sam and Cas asked together.

“What about that Jesse kid?”

Sam was momentarily stumped but Cas tilted his head, inquisitive. “The demon spawn?”

Turning up the corner of his lip, Dean argued, “Geez, you make the kid sound like a gnarly mutant. Poor kid got the shit end of the stick. But he’s powered up, isn’t he?”

Sam realized who they were talking about. “Oh shit. Can’t believe I forgot about him. He did have a ton of power, but what are you hoping he’ll do? Do you think he’s got the juice to, I dunno, put the Darkness back where she came from?”

Cas butted in, “No, he wouldn’t have that kind of power.”

“No,” Dean agreed, “but he might have enough mojo to locate someone who does. Someone who’s been MIA? Someone who might want to meet his son’s super hot, super smart, awesome new boyfriend?”

Abruptly Dean made a face. In the same breath, Cas stuttered, “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I don’t like it either. Makes me feel like we’re thirteen.”

“Guys!” Sam’s biting tone shot into the room. “Back on track here. You’re talking about Jesse being able to find God?”

“Bingo!”

In the following silence, Dean wondered if his idea was stupid.

“It’s not stupid,” Cas assured him. “Actually … I think it might be a shot. Only one problem.”

Yeah, that was a hurdle for sure. “Finding Jesse Turner?”

“Which may be impossible.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah well, a week ago I thought Dean outing his feelings for you was impossible so we might as well keep an open mind.”

“Dude?” Dean glared at his brother.

“ _Dude_ .” Sam leveled him with a look. It screamed: _Seriously?_ in that dry Sam-specific humour.

“Okay,” Cas spoke up. “If we’re going to try and find an impossible child. We need to look for things that led you both to him the first time. Unexplainable events. And the thing is, he won’t be Jesse Turner anymore— he’ll have a different name. He may look different. That child had the power to transform the world around him, but also himself. If he wanted to wake up and become a forty-two year old woman of Asian descent, it would take no more than thought and will to make it so.”

Dean’s brain took the route of wondering what it would be like if Jesse turned _him_ into a woman. What if he had sex with Cas as a woman? Could he get pregnant?

“Dean.”

Cas was staring at him very oddly. Oh, right … traitorous thoughts. “Um, yeah sorry about that.”

“Somehow, I’m starting to wonder about your use of the term ‘metaphorical' babies. Do you legitimately want children?”

As embarrassed as Dean was, nothing was better than the look on Sam’s face just then. A fucking pink and yellow elephant wearing a tutu and a crown and fucking mardi gras beads, with a donkey on its back would not have slapped Sam’s face with as much shock as the words that had come out of Cas’ mouth.

Dean burst out laughing. The friggin kid looked like he was gonna blow a fuse. “Private conversation, Sam.”

His brother flickered back to life and looked Dean in the eye. “Wait a minute, do you want to have metaphorical-but-not-metaphorical babies with Cas?”

The damn kid had the gall to look hopeful.

“No!” Dean corrected. “No,” he repeated. “No,” he was wavering. “Shit. Fucking maybe. I don’t know!”

Both of them were staring at him now like he’d sprouted six heads. Dean bristled. “It’s Cheesemas— Shut up!” With that, he jumped out of his chair and stormed off to his room.

Panicking was a fantastic plan. Good god, this whole Cheesemas Twelve-day plan was really not going as planned. Dean had been going for light and fluffy with some adequate feelsies. Now he was striding towards the territory of, like, family and shit.

He began to sweat. Yes, the panicking was back. Awesome.

This is what happened when a man started to hope for love and ever-after bullshit. All the other crap you never thought you wanted came storming in like it had a place. Kids didn’t have a place in this life. He knew that. So why was he being so stupid?

When the knock on his door inevitably came, he resigned himself to an awkward conversation. Whatever. It was fucking _truth_ day! Yay.

Not.

“Hey,” Dean said as he pulled open the door to find Cas looking at him funny, eyebrows up high, mouth in a strange kind of worried frown.

“Question and answer time?”

Dean nodded.

“Do you want to have kids? I’m not asking if you think you should given the life you lead … I’m asking if you _want_ them.”

After he beat, he nodded again, just a brusque single nod and a blink. He wasn't able to voice the words. It would make the deep wish too real.

“I would,” said Cas. “If we ever manage to have a settled life. I would.”

Shit, he was on the verge of tears for a moment. Could feel the stinging heat in the back of his throat. Swallowing back all kinds of foreign emotions, he reached out for Cas and pulled him into a hug, resting his chin on Cas’ hard shoulder.

They stayed that way for a long while. Long enough that it felt weird when he pulled away; too cold and too … lonely.

Knowing somehow that Dean needed a change in pace, Cas started to push him back into the room, towards the bed.

Once his back was flat on the mattress and Cas was straddled over his hips, the questions started again. But they were lighter, easier to answer.

Questions about his most memorable monster kill, his favourite book, movie, song … What he liked most about Cas (everything, he’d said). What his favourite sex position was (with a woman or a man?). Both, Cas wondered (Shall I illustrate? Dean teased). He proceeded to position them accordingly (clothes on). It ended in heated laughter and then more questions. What secret kinks did he have (panties, being manhandled and told what to do, teased). Cas’ stare had turned quite dark at that point. But the endless back and forth continued.

It was late afternoon by the time the questions slowed, and by then, he’d forgotten all about the secret wish he’d gone and revealed.  

Lying side-by-side, Cas finally said, “What would you like to ask me?”

Dean smiled warmly at him. “I already know everything I need to know.”

Though Cas protested, and offered information regardless as he thought of things, Dean slowly taunted him towards a more physical repartee. And before long, some fantastic making out was going on.

Nothing as intense as before, more lazy and relaxed. Exactly what he wanted after what happened before.

They didn’t meet up with Sam again until after dinner. By then, Sam had already started digging into the news articles from around the world and had begun an ever-growing list of things to check on.

“I already contacted Jody and Donna, all the other hunters too. It’s definitely worth a shot, Dean.”

It was so obvious how hard Sam was trying not to think about earlier. Poor kid was desperate for family. Dean knew what having a little nugget around would be like for Sam. It would be the highlight of everything.

So it really fucking sucked that it would never happen. Not in this life…

But, Dean thought with an expression that bordered on a smile, he never believed he’d take the plunge with Cas. And now look at him? Sitting in the main room with Cas beside him, the angel’s socked feet propped on Dean’s thighs.

And Dean, casually rubbing the soles of his feet for no higher purpose than he fucking loved the guy and wanted him to feel good.

Three weeks ago, that would’ve been deemed an impossibility. Of course, foot massages and babies were drastically different levels of dreams.

But if there was ever a time to let his dreams flirt with reality, it was during Cheesemas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh things are getting intense! Dean wants rugrats. :D


	10. On The Ninth Day of Cheesemas, Let There Be Netflix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day was supposed to be relaxing. It was supposed to involve going no further than the bed. Life intervened as it often does, and threw a wrench into Dean's Cheesemas plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this one because of you know who. Hope it doesn't suck or anything. It's not quite in line with the total fluffy cuteness I'd planned for this fic. My default setting is angst. It's also not super long. I'll shut up now.

Looking forward to a lazy day of research and Netflix, Dean stretched out under the blankets, his arms spreading wide across the bed, his fist hitting something.

“Ah.”  Cas groaned beside him. “You hit me in the nose.”

Dammit. Dean kept forgetting about having another man in his bed. Not an easy thing to get used to. 

“Were you sleeping?”

Cas rubbed at his face. “Yes. I was. Until you bonked me on the nose.”

An angel using he word bonked (and being  _ bonked _ awake) was somehow hilarious to Dean and he laughed tiredly, trying to squirm under the covers towards the warmth of Cas’ half-naked body. 

Miraculously, he’d stuck fairly well to his plan so far. No actual hand jobs had taken place (over the clothes decidedly did not count), no blow jobs, no cocks in asses of any kind. 

Sleeping in the same bed probably should’ve been a no-no at this stage, but the thought of sleeping alone was no longer a digestible notion for Dean anymore. 

“And today is for…” Cas prompted him, the angel’s arms automatically wrapping around Dean as he sidled up nice and close.

“Netflix and chill,” he said happily. “And research,” he added. 

After some fucking awesome, but sadly brief, cuddling action (to which some Christmas music may or may not have floated through his brain) Dean crawled out of bed with a fucking hop in his step and went about getting dressed and heading to the kitchen for food. 

Cas decided to get them set up in the meantime. It meant dragging the big TV into Dean’s room (or was it now their room?  _ huh _ ) and getting Netflix primed and set. Placing the laptop on the bed for research with some paper, plugging in the power cord, hopefully. 

Hopefully Cas knew where things had to be plugged in. 

Having the mind of a twelve-year old, a funny snort burst out of him and it was then he remembered Sam was standing beside him in the kitchen. “What was that about?”

Dean slyly grinned and definitely did not respond with, ‘Oh, ya know, just thinking about Cas plugging into me.’ “Nothing at all,” he answered.

Taking his toast covered with crunchy peanut butter, Dean walked back to his room, sipping his milk on the way. By the time he reentered his room, Cas was sitting up on the bed with the laptop warming his thighs and the TV remote pointed out towards the black monstrosity now at the end of Dean’s bed. 

Man, his room was starting to get cluttered. As it was, Cas’ clothes were already laying crumpled on the floor. Not that Dean was exactly tidy or anything, but he could see where this was going. All of their stuff would start to mingle and take over his room. One other thing he should’ve been planning on but hadn’t. 

The Cheesemas plan should’ve incorporated a day trip to Ikea. Grab a new dresser for Cas’ shit, maybe some more pillows. 

“Are you coming to sit?”

Pulling out of the spiral of a domestic abyss, Dean looked up to see Cas smiling at him. “Yeah.”

Dean settled on the far side of the bed and placed the plate of toast on his lap, peering over as he took the first bite to check out what Cas was Googling. Every result was some news story that featured the words: Strange, or peculiar, or odd. It was great that Sam had taught Cas how to properly search for things. It wasn’t easy to weed out the useless shit from the possible jobs. 

“So, what are we watching?” he asked. 

Cas directed his stare up to the TV for a moment and then over to Dean. “Friends.”

“As in the sitcom from the 90’s?”

“Yes. It’s funny and I like it.”

Dean shrugged. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. I’m happy as long as you’re happy.” Heat flared in his cheeks as he realized he’d just referred to Cas as  _ sweetheart _ . Oh Lord, he was in deep now, wasn’t he?

And so the day of Netflixing began. Cas had donned his aptly named ‘Netflix uniform’ consisting of light jogging pants, and one of those plain-as-day package-of-three white t-shirts, and Dean had decided on loose gym shorts and a Metallica t-shirt. After he finished his toast and brushed off as many crumbs as he could from the comforter, he shuffled over so he and Cas were hip-to-hip and wrapped his arm around Cas’ shoulders. 

Dean leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I like you in my bed.”

Sporting a tiny smile, Cas kept his eyes on the computer screen and said, “I like me in your bed too.”

Dean sighed, fully content, and leaned back to watch the TV, his stare occasionally drifting back to the laptop. 

A calm couple hours passed wherein Ross said Rachel’s name at his wedding to another woman, and Chandler and Monica slept together. Dean was thoroughly enjoying himself. Every now and then a news story would come up that drew their attention and they would add it to the overall list of things they needed to check into. But more often, Dean was leaning into Cas’ space for a short kiss or just to get a little closer. 

Towards lunch, Cas was reading a news article out loud when Dean became abruptly fascinated with the motion of the angel’s lips, the glimpse of his tongue as he framed the words. How had he denied himself kissing that mouth before? Cas didn’t make it to the end of the article—Dean reached over and cupped his jaw to guide Cas’ gorgeous face in his direction. Dean smiled mischievously, elated, and captured the man’s soft lips, slipping his tongue inside for a taste. 

Soft moans rose out of them at random moments, but the kiss lingered in a state of laid-back pleasure. None of it was rushed or even leading to anything, and he never imagined lazy making out could be so gratifying. Every muscle was lax, every worry banished from his mind. 

When he drew back from the kiss that could’ve gone on for five minutes or an hour for all he knew, the atmosphere that hovered in the space between them was sheer happiness. Nothing chaotic or desperate or nervous. Something quieter that fooled him into believing all was right in the world. It was definitely not. 

As he was so rudely reminded about ten minutes later. Popping up on the open news website was a red alert with the scrolling text: “An unknown woman has taken Bowman Primary School hostage. As of yet, we are unclear about the nature of her demands…”

Bowman Primary? Fuck!

In Dean’s floundering few seconds of anger and panic, Sam flung the door open and stormed in. 

“We’ve got a problem,” Sam said gravely. 

Dean cursed. Yes,  _ that _ , and the fact that his brother had no concept of knocking. Good thing he and Cas hadn’t been rocking the mattress with some hardcore over the clothes action. 

“I just saw it.”

Cas was staring at the side of Dean’s face but he waited to hear what the issue was other than the obvious.

“Bowman Primary’s only seven miles from here,” elaborated Sam. 

“She knows where you are?” Cas looked to the both of them.

“So it seems,” Dean concluded. Way to ruin the day, Amara, he thought. Obviously the woman (or whatever the hell she really was) had gotten the idea into her head of messing around near their Bat Cave. Big fat no-no, Ms. Darkness. Dean Winchester’s Cheesemas plan will  _ not _ get fucked with. 

Dean turned his face to Sam. “Let’s go.”

In fifteen minutes, they were driving towards the school and Dean could feel his former bleak mindset sneaking its way in, no matter how hard he tried to keep it out. When they pulled into the parking lot full of cruisers, news vans, and onlookers, Dean wished he could shut down—close his eyes and it would all go away. 

All the reasons he’d never wanted to pursue things with Cas were now staring him in the face. Like always, he thought, today could be the day. One of them might die, or worse. Who knows. He had to wonder how anyone was supposed to handle that kind of thing? Was there even space in all this for being in love?

Angrily jerking the shifter into park, Dean felt his face harden into something cruel. He stepped out of the driver’s seat, slammed the door and walked towards the group of officers that looked to be in charge. Dean, Sam, and Cas pulled out their FBI IDs.

“Agent Waters, Mason, and Grant.”

“‘Bout fucking time FBI shows up. Sorry to be rude, but we’ve got a serious situation here.”

“Yeah I see that,” Dean said in a dry tone. 

“As far as we can tell, she doesn't seem to have any weapons, but when we’d sent four of our men in to check things out a little closer, well, they didn’t come back. And we can’t reach them on radio.”

Sam frowned, stepping closer. “We’ll take it from here.”

All around them the frantic panicked chatter made Dean’s blood turn cold. Why’d she have to choose a fucking elementary school? Probably because she knew he wouldn’t dare to not show up. Not when so many innocent lives were at stake. So far, her death toll hadn’t skyrocketed the way it had with Lucifer. But perhaps it was only a matter of time. 

The cop in charge made a disgusted face and leaned in towards Dean, “Uh, you don’t think this one’s a kiddie diddler, do ya?”

“No.” Dean grimaced. “Nothing like that. My partners and I have been hunting her for a while now. She wants us, not them. They’re just her bargaining chip to get us to show up.”

With that, Dean checked his gun (not that it would do fuck all) and started walking towards the school. Sam and Cas followed his progress. The cops behind them got into position, hunkered down behind the barriers of their car doors with their guns drawn. 

How the fuck had his day started so awesome and become this shitstorm of a situation? God, he was gonna need a drink after this. 

As they approached the royal blue double doors at the front of the school, Dean saw the snipers from the bushes on the far side pull up their weapons. He acknowledged them with a curt nod and yanked open the door. 

Dean, Sam, and Cas stepped into the wide bright hallway. There was no one around. But he could feel her presence in the building, and he began walking in the direction towards the gym where the entire school would be assembled, with her standing at the front like a deadly goddess. 

When he walked into the vast room, his eyes met hers immediately. She smiled and Dean wanted to hurl. He could feel the tension radiating at his back from his brother and Cas. Neither of them wanted to be here.

“I knew I’d need to make a grand gesture to get your attention.”

“A Christmas card would’ve worked just fine. What do you want?” he felt the harshness of his voice and detested it. 

“I had to see for myself.”

Confused, Dean raised his chin in her direction. “See what?”

“What’s keeping you from me?”

The three of them stood silently, wondering what exactly she meant, until Dean caught her stare drift back to a spot just behind him and to the left.  _ Cas.  _

“So, you’re the one,” she said ominously. 

Absolutely confounded, and getting damn irritated with the aimless crap she was spewing, Dean fumbled back and forth between Cas’ stoic expression and Amara’s apparent challenge of him. None of it seemed to be going anywhere good. 

“Yes,” Cas answered. 

And to think, Dean had fancied himself confused a minute ago. “What the fu—” Dean remembered the kids scattered about the room. “What are you talking about?”

“You and I will be together,” she claimed. “Once I remove his angelic taint from your soul, that is. Perhaps killing him would get my brother’s attention.”

Something of a growl ripped out of Dean and his fingers curled around the gun by his side. It was automatic, even though he knew it was useless.

She smiled indulgently. “Maybe not today, then. I wouldn’t want to upset you. I would suffer too … don’t you see? We’re meant to be together. It’s unfortunate one of  _ His _ soldiers thought he was worthy enough.” 

Cas stepped forward. “Do you really think you will win this fight?”

Fear and panic that had been humming in Dean since he arrived dwindled to nearly nothing as he realized that it very much seemed like Amara and Cas were about to fight for him. He almost laughed. 

“I know I will.” With one last look at Dean, Amara smiled and said, “I’ll see you soon.”

And with that, she was gone. Her exit caused a tremor of subtle movement from the whole room. People began to shift and whisper like statues coming back to life. 

Sam moved to the centre of the room and spoke low to a few of the teachers. In less than ten minutes, Sam was working with the school employees to guide the kids out of the school. All of their small faces worried and confused. 

Me too, thought Dean. 

It was a long while before they made it back to the bunker, having been required to stay back for over an hour and try to explain their way out of that one. ‘ _ Uh, she vanished, man, I don’t know.’   _ That kind of thing never went over too smoothly with law enforcement. But the rumours began regardless. Every last kid and teacher had witnessed the poof act. Sam and Dean explained it was nothing but a hoax on her part. That she was clever and managed to escape. Who knew if they believed it.

The idea of crawling into bed with Cas and continuing to watch _Friends_ didn’t seem right anymore. All he wanted was to drink himself into a brainless coma. But first, he needed answers. 

They sat around the front table, both his and his brother’s eyes pinned on Cas. 

“So … there something I should know?”

Cas’ eyebrows dented inward and he cocked his head. “Nothing you don’t already know,” he said plainly. 

“There’s no way she’s all peeved because you and I are rustling up some sheets.”

“No, it’s because of what happened when I pulled you from Hell. I thought you knew?”

It was Sam who sat up straight and seemed to catch on to something. “Wait a minute, back when we were first looking for Balthazar, you said something about a claim on a soul…” Sam’s expression pinched with further confusion. “But you don’t own Dean’s soul … right?”

“No,” said Cas, his worried stare darting towards Dean for a fleeting second. “When I saved you,” he started, “you had no corporeal body in Hell. You were only a soul. When I raised you from perdition, the simple fact of having the true essence of an angel grasp a human soul that way … it has an impact.”

“So, what, like your initials are carved into the tree trunk of my soul?”

Cas shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”

Despite the weirdness of  _ that _ , Dean found himself grinning. “That’s actually kinda sweet.”

“Yes, well, it’s also apparently the only thing protecting you from being her…”

Sam made a face. “...Do we even want to know what the end of that sentence is?”

“I sure as hell don’t,” Dean said. 

They got no further on the subject after that and Sam excused himself to head out and grab dinner for them all. Dean stared at the table, his eyes roaming across the map displayed on its surface. 

As weirdly comforting as it was to know that Cas had some kind of soul-deep connection with him, everything else Amara had said was creating a pit of worrying in his gut that was growing fast. 

“Let’s continue what we started this morning.”

Dean didn’t want to argue, but he wasn’t in the mood to put up a brave face and be the man he wanted to be for Cas. Struggling for an excuse, he found none. Maybe he didn’t want an excuse after all. 

They walked quickly back to his room, slid out of their suit jackets and climbed up onto the bed. The vibe was all wrong. Maybe Cas knew that, because instead of trying to kiss or cuddle him, Cas turned on the TV and scrolled through the options until he wound up on  _ Forgetting Sarah Marshall _ . 

…

They ate when Sam got back. Then they finished watching the movie, and watched another. And then some more episodes of  _ Friends _ . But the room was rank with a very non-Cheesemassy atmosphere. Dean didn’t know how to get it back. All his cheer and delight had been stomped on. 

Maybe he needed a reset. Dean turned to Cas and said, “I’m gonna go read for a bit. You okay in here?”

“Of course. Do you want company?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, not right now.” Worried about hurting Cas’ feelings, Dean leaned over him, gave him a long chaste kiss and pulled back to find his eyes. “Sorry my mood’s tanking. I’m glad you’re here though.”

When Cas smiled, Dean knew it was just for him. It wasn’t because Cas was happy necessarily in the moment, but he knew Dean needed to see that smile before he left. 

Heading towards the library, Dean figured a drink couldn’t hurt. Maybe, if he were lucky, it would put a curtain call on the rampant worries that plagued his mind. 

Grabbing a few books for the sake of appearances, he set them out on the table, and dug out a bottle from his stash on one of the shelves behind a behemoth encyclopedia on creatures Dean had never heard of. 

One drink led to another. And those two fuelled his decision to give in to a third. It spiralled that way, each additional sip giving way to another. Until Dean lost track of time, and no longer cared that he’d never bothered to open a single book. 

Enough alcohol had entered his system that he found himself humming a few of the songs that he’d put on the CD he made for Cas. 

It was unfortunate that Cas found him that way at three in the morning having emptied half a bottle of Jim Beam, his eyes glassy and his mood shittier than before.  

Not surprised in the least, Cas sat down beside him. “What’s on your mind, Dean?”

“Probability,” he replied. 

“What about it?”

“Just the fact of it. You ever watch sports, Cas?”

Leaning back against the chair, Cas looked at Dean inquisitively, but said, “Not regularly, no. But I’m familiar with them.”

Dean downed the rest of the contents of his glass and looked up. “A team can only hold a winning streak for so long. Probability,” he explained. “And we’ve been going at this for a damn long time now. Facing the goddamn apocalypse, Leviathan, tablets, Hell, Heaven, Angels, Demons, every other goddamn creep, and now fucking Darkness of all things and so far … we’ve come out on top, but barely. Our luck won’t hold. It’s a fact. Only a matter of time before probability gets the better of us. There won’t be any bottom of the ninth home runs left to hit. Just the way it is.”

Only a matter of time, he thought despondently. When he chanced to look up to see how Cas had taken his depressive rant, the angel’s expression was impassive, giving nothing away. 

“Everything will work out. Or it won’t,” said Cas. “Either way, Dean, there’s no sense or purpose in worrying about it now.”

Dean scoffed. “Way easier said than done.” Talk about the understatement of the millennium.

Throwing Dean a disconcerted frown, Cas reached forward and peeled Dean’s fingers off the glass. Huh, guess he’d been gripping onto that alcohol delivery system pretty hard. Cas slid the glass down the table and out of reach. 

Cas dragged his chair closer, grabbed the base of Dean’s seat and scooted it sideways so they were face-to-face, their knees competing for space. 

Reaching out, Cas took Dean’s hands in his. A faint smile lightened Cas’ eyes. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“It’s tomorrow.”

Even under all his crappy attitude and the dulling result of the booze, Dean smirked. “So it is.”

“What did you plan for today?”

It took him a short second to remember, but when he did, he felt dumb. “Never mind. It’s stupid. I was horny when I wrote it.”

An exhausted sigh left Cas. “And that’s supposed to detract me from wanting to know?”

Dean shrugged. “Sorry, I’m not a whole lot of fun right now, am I?”

Easing out of his chair, Cas crowded over him, hands braced on Dean’s thighs. “Tell me anyway.”

Looking at the bottle of booze too far away to grab unless he stood, Dean gave in. “Remember how I made you finish the other day?” A heated spark flared in Cas’ stare and he nodded. “‘K well, like that but … no boxers in the way. I know,” he rolled his eyes, “not really a ton different … it’s lame.” Everything falling out of his mouth sounded profoundly ridiculous. Dean couldn’t shake the despair and lack of worth running through him. 

In the silence that followed, he wondered if Cas was disappointed. But before he had a chance to say anything else, Cas’ blue eyes shot to the table, darkening as they settled on the empty glass and half-empty bottle. 

“Do you recall what I said about drinking?”

Something about being tied up came to mind. As much as Dean wasn’t in the mood to fool around, the idea of being unable to do anything but lay there had it's appeal. What would there be to worry about if he could do nothing about it? Every stretch of muscle that strengthened him went from lax to a state of preparedness. Not hard, but on the verge of action. Even twitching a little. 

Swallowing back all kinds of nerves, he looked across the short space and held Cas’ fierce blue stare. 

Cas said, “This whole plan that you’ve concocted has been largely focused on you giving me something, or doing things for me…" Straining towards Dean, Cas slipped his hands under Dean’s arms and framed his sides with a loose hold. Determined blue eyes dominated over him. “Let me take care of you today.”

He wanted to protest. He wanted to plaster a smile to his mug and be the one who did the taking care of. 

“This isn’t a one way street, Dean.”

Cas was right. That’s not how it should be. And so when Cas stood straight and pulled Dean out of the chair, he went. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so did you like it? Are you guys eager to see what happens next! :) :)


	11. On The Tenth Day of Cheesemas, Let There be Hand Jobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the middle of the night and Cas takes control of Dean's worries and effectively banishes them. Later on, Cheesemas is declared as more important that their immediate problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of sub-ish Dean. Some light bondage I suppose. Dean makes a gross pun lol. This chapter took a dirty little turn on me. Dean embraces Cheesemas. 
> 
> Enjoy *makes evil face*
> 
> XOXOX for beta's: Tennyo and ForeverShippingJohnlock

It was the middle of the night, and yet, Dean was wired. All the alcohol in his system had been angelically scrubbed out. It was smart of Cas, because doing whatever they were about to do while he was drunk would’ve been a bad idea.

After following Cas down the hall, he was led not to his own room, but to Cas’. Inside, he saw that one of the bigger, plushier chairs from the back of the library had been moved in here. When that had happened, he had no clue.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Dean was pulled into Cas’ arms and attacked with a kiss. The type of kiss that meant business. Dean was slow to come around, the lingering despair putting hesitation in his movements. But the second his calves bumped the plush base of the overstuffed armchair, every last worry drained free of his mind. Cas gently pushed him down into it, hands putting weight on his shoulders.

“Still not adverse to the idea?” Cas wondered.

The past days’ excitement and joy tingled in the tips of his fingers. Dean shook his head. “Not even a little.”

Cas smiled wide. “Good. Shirt off.”

Dean obeyed, his fingers moving to undo the buttons of his dress shirt from earlier. When that was gone, Cas reached behind him, grabbed the fabric of his undershirt and pulled it over his head.

“Pants _and_ boxers.” Cas said next.

Once more, Dean shuffled on the chair to get it all off. He hesitated before removing the last item of clothing. They hadn’t actually been fully naked around each other yet. Not quite so … on display at least. Dean wasn’t normally stumped with body issues but he actually found himself riddled with nerves.

Crowding over the chair, Cas eased his worries with a taunting series of kisses. Though kissing was a loose description with what Cas was doing to his mouth. Having Cas’ tongue slip along the parted gap of his lips and then lean closer only to tug at him with perfect teeth just about annihilated every last reservation he had.

Dean nearly head-butted Cas’ forehead in his haste to rip his boxers off.

The second they were discarded on the floor, Cas stepped back and just …. _stared_. No one had quite looked at him that way before. Mostly because Cas wasn’t looking at his crotch, or even his body really. But glued to his face, practically gazing in rapture.

Dean had to laugh. “I thought you were gonna be tying me up or something. Now you’re just gawkin’,” he teased.

In the most adorable nervous gesture, like he’d been caught red-handed, Cas dragged his hand over the back of his neck and looked down at the floor. “Sorry … I became distracted.”

Cas moved forward and gently angled Dean’s arms over the sides of the chair. Taking soft-looking lengthy strips of fabric from under his bed, Cas proceeded to loop and tie them around his wrists, and pulled everything taut before securing them to the hind legs of the squat chair.

“Do you always have bondage paraphernalia under your bed?”

“Not usually. Your Cheesemas plan has awoken some foreign desires in me. I’d say you are a bad influence, Dean.”

Grinning, and frankly … _proud_ , Dean glanced down to watch Cas continue to strap him down. He could feel the heavy weight at the centre of his hips and wondered when it would get the attention it clearly wanted. “If this is the result of me corrupting you, I can’t say I’m upset with the result.”

Cas shot him a wry grin and tightened a knot.

Strapped down and loving it, Dean was soon forced to watch Cas undress in front him. Slow as all Hell, just like the last time. But instead of the boxers shielding his view of the real show, Dean was graced with the whole glorious sight of Cas’ naked form. From every angle, to flat stretch of skin, to angular jut of bone, it was all exactly what he wanted … even those lightly-haired athletic legs that Dean fantasized about having tight around his hips.

Dean’s eyes were drawn down when Cas took himself in hand. The angel’s voice came to him through a fog of lust. “Are you still worried about the unpredictability of the world?”

Cocking his head and shooting Cas a blank stare, he curtly responded with, “I’m worried about how long it’s gonna take you to get the hell over here.”

A gorgeous broad smile stretched into Cas’ expression and he let go of himself and walked towards the chair. It finally hit Dean that they were both naked. And despite all of his Cheesemas rules, Dean _was_ tied down. If Cas wanted to suck him off, what could Dean very well do about it?

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Cas pointed a finger at him. “You think you can tease me all week and then think I’m going to conveniently break the rules for you? Not a chance, Dean.”

Damn. “Fine then. If we’re staying within the parameters of the Cheesemas rulebook, we should discuss what’s allowed.”

To demonstrate, Cas climbed onto his thighs and angled his face up for a kiss. “This?”

Releasing a pleased moan, Dean nodded. “Yeah, that’s definitely okay.”

Cas’ deft fingers traced down his sides and in towards his belly. Barely, like the ghost of a touch, they grazed his cock. “This?”

Dean swallowed. “Mm-hmm.”

Bending over him in an arch, Cas kissed across the sharp angle of Dean’s jaw, down his neck and bit the hard ridge of his clavicle. “This?” All that rough voice vibrating so close to Dean’s skin lit a growing flame deep within him.

A breathy exhale skirted past his lips. “Uh-huh … biting is … okay.” Fucking more than okay, he thought.

Sliding off the chair, so he was kneeling between Dean’s spread legs, Cas dragged his palms down Dean’s chest, stomach, hips and over his thighs. “This?”

Dean pulled at the ties. “Definitely.”

Leaning into him again, Cas pulled one of his taut exposed nipples between his teeth and gripped a bit harder than Dean had expected. He swore in a sharp crack of sound. “ _Fuck_ ! Yes … totally, _absolutely_ allowed.”

Cas’ mouth trailed down his skin, licking and sucking until the moment his cheek brushed Dean’s cock. “Holy shit, allowed … I think,” he rambled, wondering how quickly he’d become incoherent.

Humming appreciatively, Cas buried his face into the bend of his hip that separated his pelvis from his thigh and sucked the skin enough to turn it an angry shade of red. Dean couldn’t help but squirm, the smooth fabric of the chair rubbing at the bare skin of his ass.

Cas eased back into his crouch between Dean’s legs and slid his hands up the bare insides of Dean’s thighs. “Ah, fuckin’ hell,” Dean breathed, tossing his head back onto the chair and staring up at the boring ceiling.

The trajectory of Cas’ touch didn’t end where he hoped. Closing in, Cas altered course and rubbed over the tops of his thighs, kneading against the muscle in the most glorious tease. How could something both relax and arouse him? It didn’t make sense.

“ _Dude_!” Dean whined.

Cas stared up at him, very unimpressed. “Do not call me _‘dude’_.”

“I let sweetheart slip before, how’d you like that?”

Cas grinned and teased closer with the reach of his fingers. “Very much.”

On the next near pass of Cas’ massaging hands, Dean raised his hips off the chair in a not so subtle hint that he wanted more—not that his erect cock wasn’t already saying that.

Cas averted his eyes from what his hands were doing and unleashed all that heated blue up at Dean. Under the power of that look, Dean found he couldn’t look away—even as he felt Cas’ thumbs trace up the inside of his thighs, closer and closer.

It was herculean effort that kept Dean from looking down the moment he felt the weight and heat of Cas’ hand wrap around his cock. Another hand sliding just under his sac and fondling him nearly everywhere all at once.

Whatever exhale had been on it’s way out was now trapped; frozen like the rest of him. Dean waited on the verge of who knows what, desperate for things to keep going.

“Cas,” he pleaded, biting down on his bottom lip and rubbing himself on the chair for any kind of friction.

Relief coursed through Dean when Cas graced him with that first stroke, firm and sure, moving up his cock and then quickly back down. On the next pass up, relief had him sagging in the chair, sure that Cas wasn’t stopping now. Dean let his head fall back and closed his eyes.

All of his senses spiralled down to what was happening below his waist: To the constant pressure gripped around his shaft, to the warm hold and tease of Cas’ hand downright caressing his balls.

Every breath came faster than the last, and sounds started to come out of him that no man would ever admit to making.

It felt _beyond_ good. Dean couldn’t imagine it getting better. But he was happily proved wrong when he felt the hot wet seal of Cas’ mouth on his knee. And why had he never been touched there before? His knees loved the attention.

Glancing down to watch, he tracked the progress of Cas sucking red splotches from his knees to his hips and everywhere in between. Only when Cas started to inch closer to his cock did he protest and yet push his hips closer to Cas’ face.

The fucking angel gripped his cock and held it out of the way as he buried his face in Dean’s groin and licked right next to his balls. Dean was on the edge of yelling, “Not allowed!” But who was he kidding!? The warmth of Cas’ mouth was way too fucking awesome to say no to.

Cas pulled off with a cocky smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t stop me.”

“Like I could,” he mumbled, his throat raw and mouth dry.

Giving Dean’s erection a last squeeze, Cas let go and stood in front him. “Tired yet?”

Dean readily shook his head. “No fucking way. And if you stop now…”

“You’ll what?” Cas grinned down, noting his current predicament of being trapped, and folded his arms across his chest.

Goddammit. Dean squirmed to test the strength of the tied fabric. Yeah, he could probably get out of this if he had to. Maybe Cas had done that on purpose, probably knowing the amount of times Dean had been tied up against his will. It was sort of sweet that Cas was going easy on him. “I _could_ get out of this, you know.”

With that threat hovering in the air, Cas uncrossed his arms and climbed into the chair, letting his full-grown manly weight settle on Dean’s thighs. “I’d like to see you try.”

One of those stupid kind of grins tugged at Dean’s mouth. It made him feel like a lovesick fool. “Hmm, as fun as naked wrestling with you would be … I think I’d prefer you continue what you started. Don’t want to be pegged as a quitter now, Cas.”

“Oh, of course not,” agreed Cas, a gleam in his eye as he inched deeper into the plush frame of the chair.

Dean could feel how close everything was down there, it was driving him mad. Arousal spiked in him, making his cock kick forward like the fucking thing knew what it was doing, that small movement enough to feel Cas’ hard sex for a short second.

“Oh, fuck…” Dean moaned and tipped his chin back. “Fucking kiss me, please.”

With a pleased, obliging grin, Cas leaned over him and gave him a very sweet kiss, laughing when Dean growled for more than that. He didn’t have to protest again. Cas worked them into a raunchy kiss full of breath and tongue and moaning that sounded like muffled swear words.

The rising heat of the kiss soon had Cas’ hips rocking against him and Dean wished his hands were free to wrap around both of them.

When Cas brought his hand between them and tried to get his hand around both of them, Dean had never been happier to know that the angel was occasionally reading the Dean Winchester sex manual running through his mind. How convenient.

“Yes, it is,” mumbled Cas between them.

All Dean managed back was a happy little groan. It took Cas a bit of precise positioning before he could comfortably take them both in hand, lining them up inside the strength of his loose fist.

It was hot, a bit drier than he would’ve liked, but it still managed to turn him into a whimpering mess. Cas’ crowding position combined with the tight pull on his wrists meant Dean was powerless to the continued touch and pleasure. It climbed higher and higher and there was a point where he would’ve pulled back if he’d had freedom to move—if only for the purpose of keeping him grounded and taking a breath so he didn’t go over too soon.

But there was no option for that.

He was left to take every new degree of sensation. It annoyed him that he wouldn't last. And he said as much, “Cas, babe, fuck … if you don’t stop soon, I won’t … last.” Most of his sentence was eaten up by Cas’ resurgent pressing kisses, willfully ignoring him.

Dean tried again as precome slicked over the tip of his cock. “Oh, god … Cas. Wait.”

Jesus Christ. Abandoning his plan to make this last longer, he succumbed to the constant rough drag of Cas’ hand, the hard barrier of his  stiff sex rubbing up against Dean’s, and the soft cushion of Cas’ ass rocking over his thighs.

It seemed Cas wasn’t _entirely_ paying attention anymore. The angel kissed him hard, eagerly, moving against him in a way that no doubt strained the legs of the chair. Dean wouldn’t be surprised if they snapped off.

“Dean,” Cas said in some kind of warning.

Since the moment Cas had brought them together and taken them both into the confines of his rapidly moving fist, his other hand had been clutched onto Dean’s shoulder. It moved now to grab the back of his neck, tipping his head back. Cas deepened their kiss in a way that made Dean wonder if it alone could be considered sex. It was a dominating kiss, cranking him up that much higher.

Not given the chance to pull away or even turn his head, when Dean’s orgasm sprung up on him, his cock jerking between them and shooting out ropes of come, the sudden yell that roared up from his throat unloaded completely into Cas’ open mouth.

That seemed to throw Cas over, and Dean felt the angel’s entire frame shudder and suddenly the hot splashes of Cas’ release were hitting his chest and promptly sliding down his skin. Dean loved every second of it.

In the aftermath, Cas continued to kiss him lazily, his hands (one of them very messy) rose up to cradle Dean’s face and plaster his mouth and cheeks and nose and forehead with soft, satisfied pecks. Each one felt like a thank you of some kind.

Pretty sure if anyone should be thankful, it should be Dean. Not so long ago he’d been down half a bottle and pondering the horrific state of the world and his life.

Now he was covered in come, fucking happy as a clam and ready for bed.

“I—" Dean pressed his lips together and froze. Crap. Almost jumped the gun on the ‘I love you’ thing. Geez, way to keep a tight lid on that one, dumbass.

“I think that’s the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” he said instead.

Cas hummed pleasantly as he continued to kiss his way all over Dean’s face, and now moving down to his jaw and neck, nuzzling a little.

Curled up on him, not seemingly bothered by the mess, Cas whispered, “Is that what you had in mind for today?”

A tired laugh bubbled from his throat. “Not even close. I think you outdid my original plans.” Dean brushed his cheek against the top of Cas’ head since he had no use of his hands. “I dub you King of Cheesemas Day Number Ten.”

“Such a high honour.”

“I know, right? Now, as part of your Kingly Cheesemas duties, can you please untie me so we can go to bed? Not that I don’t love you all curled up naked on top of me … but curling up naked in bed would also be pretty damn good.”

Sighing at the prospect of having to move, Cas grudgingly climbed out of the chair. Sporting the cutest pout ever, Cas stumbled around naked and untied him. Dean found himself chuckling as he watched the cranky, post-sort-of-sex Cas show.

“A little grumpy, are we?”

Cas narrowed his eyes on Dean. “I’ve realized I don’t like moving after an orgasm. It’s very disorienting.”

“So sorry to disrupt your sated haze, oh great one.”

That dragged an amused smile out of Cas and he finished with the last of the restraints and pulled Dean to his feet. Jesus, Dean was wobbly.

He took one look at their discarded clothes and said, “Fuck that.”

Praying that Sam was still soundly asleep, Dean marched out the door ass naked and covered in ejaculate and padded down the hall to his room. Cas followed … also naked.

Man, if Sam woke up now, he’d be pissed!

Back in his own room, Dean snatched the already dirty towel from his hamper, wiped himself down and beelined for the bed.

“That’s my side,” Cas complained.

“We have sides?”

“Yes, and you are on mine. Move over.”

Trying hard not to laugh, Dean shuffled over and got settled on _‘his’_ side. Though, it turned out Cas had no qualms about joining Dean on his side, leaving the side closest to the door totally empty.

So there they were, in the early hours of Wednesday morning piled on one side of the bed, not one thought wasted on their problems.

Falling asleep to the sounds of Cas’ slow breathing, Dean mumbled, “Happy Cheesemas Cas.”

Dean felt a kiss greet his cheek and a, “Happy Cheesemas Dean,” whispered against his ear.

…

It was late in the day when Dean resurfaced to the land of the living so to speak. Every limb felt soft and useless, the muscles faintly sore. He was pretty sure he’d been flexing the entire time Cas had been teasing and torturing him. In all the best ways of course.

Eyes still closed, he pushed out his arms and legs and felt around for another body under the blankets. Cas was on the far side of the bed, and laying on his back. Unsure if the angel was asleep or not, though not really caring, Dean wiggled over and got in tight against his side.

Placing a kiss on Cas’ chest, Dean whispered, “Good morning,” and snuggled closer.

The response he got was nothing more than fingers sinking into his hair and starting to drag across his scalp, twisting the short strands in his fingers at random.

Dean stayed in a state of half-awake for a long while, enjoying Cas’ comforting touch and the smell of his skin and the subtle beat of his heart. It was steady and rhythmic, and he tried to remember if it beat faster when they were fooling around. Did Cas purposely let his body react during sex, or could he control it if he wanted to?

A lot of random thoughts about Cas and his angelic status (regardless of current power levels) floated through his mind. His inner wonder drifted into loose dreams about Cas dying of old age, or contrastingly, of Cas leaving Dean when he became old. The stress of the unknown must have begun to show in his position, or the set of his features because he was awoken by the gentle pads of Cas’ fingers smoothing out apparent tension across his forehead and just over the arch of his eyebrows.

It was peaceful, to feel Cas smoothing out his worries, like the action itself was sufficient to rid his mind of all the uncertainties.

“Are you hungry?” asked Cas, his throaty rough voice a bit jarring given the state of Dean’s partly sleeping status.

He mumbled something along the lines of, “Hmm-mm, mmm.”

“Nonsense isn’t a reply, Dean.”

Groaning as he came around, Dean tipped his head back to bite Cas’ jaw and said, “I’m comfy.”

Cas laughed. “Yes, I see that. But your stomach’s been grumbling for half an hour.”

Right on cue, Dean heard and felt the rumbles under the covers. “Damn stupid body.”

“Yes, they are quite needy aren’t they?”

Dean nodded and started to lift himself up. He got as far as positioning himself over Cas on all fours, effectively (or so he liked to think) trapping Cas under him.

Slapping a dopey smile on his face, he stared down at said, “Good morning sweetheart.”

Winding his arms around Dean’s middle, Cas arched up into the awkward hug and kissed his mouth. “Morning. Are you feeling better?”

Smirking, Dean lowered his hips and dragged his morning ‘Hi-how-are-ya’ against Cas stomach. “I’d say so.”

A sexy growl left Cas seconds before his mouth pulled Dean into an enticing kiss. A kiss that, were he not fucking starving, he’d want to continue until the sun went down. Or … until it was midnight and Dean could go down on Cas. It would technically be Christmas Eve at that point.

Annnnd the kiss stopped! Probably because of his errant thoughts.

“That’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” Cas asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

Dean licked his lips. “Yup. Nothing says Christmas Eve like a blow job, right?”

Evidently over-excited for the prospect of that, Cas reached back to the headboard and humped up against Dean. “Dean, I love Cheesemas. It’s the best idea you’ve ever had. Of course, yes, you’ve saved the world and you’re an amazing hunter. But this,” he rolled his hips up as clear indication, “is without a doubt, better than anything else, by a very wide margin, I’d say. I’ve never imagined it was physically possible to feel this … content.”

Dean didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or jump up and down with joy. He went with humour. “I take it you’re eager for tomorrow then?”

Laughing, and looking a bit embarrassed, Cas turned his eyes away from Dean. “Sorry. Was I being too brazen?”

“Not possible.” Finally, Dean crawled off the naked temptation underneath him and made his way to the closet, scouring the meager offerings for suitable clothes. Glancing at the hamper, he remembered he needed a shower. Well, that was only gonna happen after breakfast.

Ooh, and maybe Cas would join him? Not that last night wasn’t amazing, but Dean was still the master and creator of Cheesemas, and he’d be a terrible “boyfriend” or whatever, if he didn’t do his best to wind Cas up with an excellent hand job. And just thinking of working Cas’ hard sex with both of them all wet and soapy … _ugh ..._ Dean looked down.

How the fuck was he supposed to make it through life with an almost constant erection? Whatever; first world problems, right?

Digging through his piles of Value Village finds, he picked out an old pair of jeans that were soft and somewhat ripped. Perhaps a bit too big for him but he didn't care. Finally, he stuffed his arms into a Henley and that was that.

Moving to the door, he looked back on the bed to find Cas laying face down, face squished against the pillow.

“Are you getting up?”

“Not just yet. Things need to go back down before I can get up.”

Dean laughed. “Not a bad problem to have, Cas. And don’t worry—I’ll take care of that later. Make yourself useful in the meantime and skim through the list of stories we need to look into.”

“Alright.”

Dean left the room and wandered down the hall to the kitchen. He saw the clock on the wall as he moved towards the counter. Damn, it was almost four in the afternoon.

“Good morning,” Sam teased. “Nice hair.”

What? Scrunching his face in confusion, Dean reached up and lightly patted the crown of his head. It was spiky and definitely fuzzier than normal. No doubt a result of Cas’ fingers running through it. “Shut up,” he grumbled.

Sam’s hazel eyes followed his every move as he started pulling ingredients out of the fridge for a fried-egg sandwich. At the last second before the fridge door closed, he nudged it back open with his foot and grabbed the plastic container of raspberries. Might as well bring something back to Cas, he thought.

Halfway through getting everything cooked and prepped, he spun back and shook the package of bacon towards Sam. “What the hell is your problem?!”

Jerking back in shock, it was obvious Sam hadn’t realized the staredown he’d been giving. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to stare. I’m just … shocked still. I thought after yesterday I would’ve found you passed out in the library.”

Not that he wanted to admit the truth but Sam’s predictions nearly came true. “It was a close call, but Cas, uh, helped pull me back from a downward spiral.”

“Well, thank god for Cas then. He’s definitely good for you.”

Very true, Dean thought. And he hoped, that he was good for Cas, but he wasn’t too sure about that one.

In the middle of breakfast, Cas walked into the room with the laptop balanced on his forearm, his eyes distracted by whatever was on the screen. “I think there are a few decent possibilities to check into,” he began. “I’ve narrowed down the best options.”

“Great,” said Sam. “We can start today—what's the closest one?”

Dean’s entire frame slumped and he slapped his hands on the table. “ _No_!”

The room fell dead silent, and both his younger brother and Cas stared at him completely perplexed by his outburst.

Dean stood up to make his pronouncement. “Ya know what!? It is friggin’ two goddamn days before Christmas—no,” he corrected, “ _Cheesemas_! And I demand that we lock the door, forget all about the crap going on out there and enjoy our fucking Cheesemas. Who’s with me!?”

Sam stood up, raising up his glass of milk. “Hear, hear!”

Snapping the laptop closed, Cas met their encouraging stares and said, “As the pronounced King of Cheesemas, I agree with this plan of action, or rather, non plan of action.”

What a dork. What a lovable gorgeous dork.

“Oh,” Dean corrected with a devious grin, “there’ll be _plenty_ of action!”

Across the table, Sam jabbed his finger into his mouth and mock-gagged. “Gross!”

“I think the action should start right now,” Dean decreed.

Cas put the computer on the table. “I agree.”

“I don’t,” Sam grumbled. “Man, this is _so_ not fair. How did I wind up the third wheel?”

Dean laughed and faced his brother. “I hate to break it to ya, but I think you’ve kinda been a third wheel for a while. I mean, not _technically_ but … well ya know.”

Sam glared. “Yes, I _know_.”

Not able to wait a second longer, Dean reached for his mostly eaten sandwich, hoovered the remaining half in about ten seconds flat and stalked towards Cas with his cheeks still full of food.

Eyeing Dean like he were some kind of challenge, Cas began to back up with a smirk on his face. It basically said, ‘ _Come and get me.’_ And, oh yes, Dean would.

Behind him, Dean heard Sammy banging his head on the table and groaning. “Oh god, I’m calling Jody and Donna… I can’t take this.”

Dean swallowed (managing not to choke which was impressive) and yelled back. “Invite them over for Cheesemas!”

The moment they were in the hallway, Dean started to run. He chased Cas all the way into the Men of Letters shower room. Clothes were being angrily pulled off before the door clicked shut. He distantly heard a few toiletries clatter to the floor as clothes were thrown about the room in a haste.

When he finally got Cas under the shower head, hot water pelting over them, he went for Cas’ mouth first and kissed him frantically. Dean was too wound up to hold back and his hands stroked down Cas’ wet chest and abs until he reached the straining erection at the juncture of his hips. _Mmm_ , beautiful, sexy hips.

“And I bet you were thinking I wouldn’t retaliate from the teasing last night.”

Cas groaned and pressed back against the wet tiles. “Actually I was hoping you would.”

Even if it trespassed into the territory of what was planned for tomorrow, Dean got to his knees on the hard slick floor. As vantage points went, it was a spectacular one. Dean teased Cas and rubbed his body, grazing his blunt nails over his skin.

A solid forty minutes later, Dean finally decided to let the pleading angel finish, changing up his teasing pace to jerk him off quick and steady until the end.

"Dean," warned Cas, every muscle straining and starting to shake. "Ah-ah, fff-fuck..."

Grinning, Dean stayed right where he was and watched Cas come on his face. Not entirely a smart move, but thankfully none of it got him in the eyes.

In the midst of wiping come from his face, Dean said, “Guess snow’s not the only white substance coming down from the heavens this Christmas, huh?”

Above him, Cas snorted at his comment and shifted to the right resulting in Dean getting blasted in the face with the excellent water pressure.

Supposed he should’ve expected that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact.. I was listening to Jason Mann's Christmas CD... and I think it's very relevant info that Misha sings "The Twelve Days of Christmas."


	12. On The Eleventh Day of Cheesemas, Let There Be Blow Jobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve blow jobs for everyone! And some visitors :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twas the night before Christmas, not a creature was stirring ... except this dumbass writing on her laptop listening to Christmas music (with a pile pf unwrapped xmas presents behind her)... 
> 
> Also, tomorrow's chapter will have been partly written under slight intoxication. I am so very sorry. It will probably be really really lovey-dovey. Don't worry .. i'll make sure it's beta'd before I post.

Embracing the Cheesemas cheer that had settled over the bunker since their collective decision to tell the world to Fuck Off, Dean started to hum within seconds of waking up Thursday morning.

Besides, yesterday had been _damn_ awesome. He got to watch Cas finish with a front row seat.

And today? Oh-ho-ho. Dean was gonna get to taste Cas. Why fucking wait? Humming low in his throat, trying to deftly work his way under the blankets without getting stuck in the sheets, he made his way over to Cas, who was curled on his side.

Yesterday over a late dinner, Dean learned that while Cas never needed to sleep so long as he had his grace, he found the period of rest eased his mind like nothing else. His exact words were: “You don’t need to orgasm, but you thoroughly enjoy it, correct? I feel the same way about sleeping. It’s not necessary, but it feels wonderful.”

Not wanting to accidentally wake him up (if he wasn’t already), Dean pressed his face close to the mattress and cursed the fact that Cas was more on his front than on his side. Only some of his cock was available for Dean’s mouth, but he’d gladly take it.

Sneaking in closer, he smiled and slipped his tongue out to lap at the head. Dean wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but nothing happened. Evidently Cas was still out of it. Not bothered even a little that Cas was apparently comatose, Dean licked the plush head, the tip of his tongue skirting along the bottom, partly grazing the sheet in the process.

Most awkward blow job ever. But fucking hell, he was determined. Reaching through the blankets he pushed at Cas’ hip enough to expose his entire cock. Hallelujah.

Sinking the entire half-hard length into his mouth, Dean let out a groan of pornographic epicness. Totally unavoidable considering how great it was to know that Cas was all stuffed in his mouth.

“Enjoying … yourself … down there?” asked Cas, his voice raspy and definitely awake.

Pulling back to speak, Dean realized how odd it was that he was cooped up under all the blankets staring at Cas’ cock and balls with something very close to glee. “Yes, actually I am.”

“I think it’s very unfair for you to have all the fun.”

Before he had the time to figure out what Cas meant by that, the blankets were thrown off and Cas sat up only long enough to grab Dean by the thighs and wrench him around in a spectacular show of strength. Fucking angels.

“Jesus!” Dean sputtered, disoriented. His knees were now planted in the pillows at the head of the bed, the tops of his feet pressed against the headboard.

Dean’s point of view hadn’t changed, but Cas was getting an eyeful of Dean’s full erection now.

“Holy crap, Cas! Did you just mojo us into sixty-nining?”

“Is that what it’s called? Hmm, I think I see why. Yes, I understand now.” The last word had barely reached Dean’s ears before he felt the wet hot grip of Cas’ mouth closing around him.

“Uhhn, fuck. Goddamn, you’re awesome,” he praised, propping himself up and reaching between Cas’ legs to take the cock in hand and position it for his mouth.

Dean wasn’t a tease about it, he couldn’t handle the build-up anyway. His hand worked the base, fingers reaching back to stroke Cas’ balls while his mouth slipped over the shaft with ambitious speed. Moaning around the intrusion, Dean closed his eyes and relished in the hot weight gliding over his tongue.

It was hard to split his attention between what he was doing to Cas and what Cas was doing to him. Everything was mindblowing and slick. He loved the way Cas’ hands felt tight on his hips, guiding him up and down with ease.

And when Cas lowered him, the angel didn’t stop until all of Dean was buried deep towards his throat. It made Dean shake at the sheer notion of his cock being buried so far into Cas’ mouth. It encouraged Dean to respond in kind. Almost as if Cas had challenged him, Dean sucked his way down as far as he could go, having to hold his breath or risk choking.

Working his arms under Cas’ hips and around, he reached up between Cas’ thighs and tugged his sac as he worked his mouth around the hard sex, sucking and groaning, spit slipping past the corner of his lips.

Dean grabbed Cas’ ass in both hands. Pulling up, his lips loosely dragged over the soft skin of Cas’ cock, Dean let his teeth graze along the underside.

A moan vibrated around his own dick that sounded suspiciously like his name. Dean responded by thrusting down and earning a hard slap as a result.

_You don’t need to breathe_ , he joked in the dirtiest prayer ever said on the face of the planet. Laughing despite the cock in his mouth, Dean started to fully let loose—his head bobbing up and down, hands grabbing at Cas’ ass and hips and thighs, practically grinding himself on Cas’ face.

All of it seemed to drive Cas insane, because the moaning that rolled out against his hips and all around his cock never seemed to end. Just as Dean was thinking that they were right on track to go fucking crazy on each other until they were both coming hard and screaming around one another, Cas went and dragged a finger down the crease of his ass, stopping only when he reached Dean’s super unholy place and fucking prodded.

Dear God, it fucking tingled. The groan that tore out of him was the neediest, whimper-y kind of sound he’d ever heard come out of himself.

It would’ve been embarrassing if he cared at all.

Dean rocked his hips around, continuing to plead around the cock in his mouth. It occurred to him that after all this, Cas’ dick was going to smell like Dean’s morning breath and that was weirdly awesome. Maybe it was just knowing that Cas would smell like him.

Pushing on Dean’s hips, Cas freed his mouth and said, “Not … a … one way … street, Dean.”

Distracted by the breathy sound of Cas’ voice, Dean almost didn’t noticed when Cas started to spread his legs. Oh wow. Merry Cheesemas to Dean Fucking Winchester.

It was convenient that pretty well every finger on his right hand was already slick from his messy blow job. Dean continued to suck Cas off with unrelenting vigour as he tucked his arm in between Cas’ legs, nudged them further apart with his elbow and reached down to Cas’ ass.

With his other hand still trapped under Cas’ hip, he grabbed a good handful and squeezed. It had the exact effect of opening Cas up to him. Dean rubbed his finger back and forth over the tight entrance … suddenly feeling Cas do the same to him.

Wanting more, both of them strained towards each other, legs spreading wider, hips pushing into the connection.

Dean dipped his finger just past the ring of muscle the same second Cas did. And neither of them paused to get each other used to it, both of them going in deep to the last knuckle.

The fucking game was _on_ now. Dean positioned himself just right, hovering enough to bob up and down Cas’ swollen stiff sex, jerking between his lips for release. He also had the perfect range of motion to piston his finger in and out of Cas with the same cruel pace that Cas was doing to him; hard and fast and fucking awesome.

Every last corner of Dean’s room was filled with a disgusting cacophony of slurping and muffled groans, not to mention a thick aroma of sex and steadily increasing humidity.

Heat built in his abdomen, and he felt tears prickle the corners of his eyes from the strain of being so close, so on edge, and Cas’ thick cock plunging back towards his throat didn’t help things.

Inside his head, he began to scream, _Fuck, fuck, fuck … Cas … I’m gonna come, oh fuck, gonna … oh god, add another … another finger … FUCK._

Stretching him out for another digit, Cas definitely swore around Dean’s cock and sank two fingers into him. Dean felt the rush of the orgasm before the first euphoric pulse rocked his body.

Every muscle locked into place, and he shouted and shook, a little startled in the midst of his orgasm when a shot of come flooded into his mouth and he nearly choked on it.

Panting through his nose, jerking uncontrollably, Dean swallowed as best he could.

Even after the last of the release was either swallowed or staining his sheets, tremors still rolled through him.

He’d pulled off after Cas was done and was now just resting his cheek on Cas’ sweaty thigh, staring at the sated hang of the angel’s sac. “Your cock looks very satisfied,” he mumbled.

Cas laughed, and Dean felt the puffs of air against his exposed areas, could feel Cas shake beneath him. “That was…" Cas stopped talking, evidently at a loss for a proper description.

Humming in agreement, Dean replied, “Yeah.”

Not in any kind of position to fall back asleep, Dean didn’t so much as get up really, but more just crawled towards the end of the bed, glad the TV was far enough back that he could slide right onto the floor.

Ah yes, so much cooler down here.

Laying out spread-eagled on the hard floor, he heard Cas’ voice from the bed. “Why are you on the floor?”

Dean grunted. “Don’t know. Feels nice”

“Is your brain sort of … fuzzy? My brain is fuzzy.”

“Mmm. Fuzzy yes. Sex good. Dean sleep now.”

A laugh rose from the bed, and then a sigh. “You probably need to eat.”

“Food’s for the weak.”

“Dean,” reprimanded Cas.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean droned back.

“What’s tomorrow?”

A slow smiled spread across Dean’s face. Truth was, he wasn’t giddy about Cas lubing up and fucking him, all Dean wanted was to say what he wanted to say. It was locked inside him, the emotion busting at the seams. “How cheesy of an answer do you want?”

“The cheesiest.”

Dean smirked. “Tomorrow, sweetheart, is the first day of the rest of our lives!”

In the following silence, Dean propped up on his elbows looking towards the bed. Naturally, that was the moment Cas sat up and whipped a pillow at his face.

“How are you the same man as two weeks ago?” Cas wondered, sincere confusion putting lines in his expression that Dean didn’t care for. Worry lines were not permitted.

Heaving himself off the floor, Dean walked over to the side of the bed, leaned down and kissed Cas on the mouth. “I have no fucking clue. The strange this is? I know this is me. Like … this is who I’m supposed to be without all that the bad shit out there fucking me up. I’m happy … I’m, like, _really_ fucking happy. It’s ... weird.”

“It’s breathtaking.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Now who’s being cheesy?”

It took them another twenty minutes, but they managed to moderately clean each other up, put some clothes on, and make their way out of the room that now reeked of sex.

Moving down the hall to the war room to see what Sam was doing, they walked in sporting huge smiles and froze the second they realized they had visitors.

“Well, hey there!” greeted Donna, a knowing smile teasing her expression. “Good ta’ meet’chya Castiel!”

Eyes wide, Cas waved awkwardly. “Um, hello.”

Jody simply shook her head at the two of them. “Scream any louder there, Dean?”

Wow, nice to know his face could heat up so quickly. “Uh…” Who was he kidding, there were no words appropriate for this situation.

Sam didn’t look up from the computer. “Yes, thank you for scarring me for life. You better fucking buy me headphones, jerk.”

“Whatever, bitch. Consider it payback for what you did in the Impala not too long ago.”

Both Jody and Donna whipped their matching stares to face Sam, “What did you do in the Impala?”

Now it Sammy’s turn to sport a blush. “Nothing.”

“Got his ass all over the leather seats, that’s what! Boinking some random! Geez, Sammy. When are ya gonna find someone to settle down with!” All this he said with his arm around Cas’ shoulders, pulling him in nice and close.

His brother flinched, but it wasn’t hurt Dean saw, it was the shortest, most fleeting glimpse across the table. Dean prayed so fast his brain hurt, _Oh my god, I think Sammy is banging Jody._

Cas leaned closer and kissed the side of his face, whispering, “ _Yes, he is.”_

That lit-up Christmas tree inside Dean’s soul started to twinkle and flicker. He beamed at everyone in the room, nodding his head a little. “Ah, Cheesemas. What a fucking great holiday. Bringing everyone together, love is in the air, family, good food—”

“—Inappropriate sounds coming from closed doors”

“—Grand gestures!”

“I don’t know what’s going on this bunker,” Donna spouted, “but ya’ll are drinkin’ some funny water over here I think.”

...

They didn’t have an actual Christmas tree, but Sam had come up with the idea of piling books in the vague shape of one. It was donned with various random shit from around the bunker. Some colored bottles, a few weapons, bullets hanging by twine tucked into the pages. Dean had even made a pass through the garage, he ripped off the packaging of the Impala’s new caliper, and the two new rotors and piled them on the top of the makeshift tree. It seemed appropriate that Baby have her presence represented accordingly.

None of them had gifts to give each other, but all they wanted was company. And that they had plenty of. Dean and Donna made chili in the kitchen together. Though Dean began to think of it as talk-show program and he was the guest. To be fair, Donna had just met Cas for the first time, and then found out that Dean was basically schmoozing an Angel of the Lord. It was a lot of news to gain all at once.

Dean grudgingly answered the questions posed to him.

All the good-natured pestering eventually wore him down and before he knew it, he was almost gushing. “Cas is awesome, though,” he was saying. “Sure, he’s a little weird, but I kinda like it and he cares about me. Not that no one’s cared for me before, but not like that … I dunno” Dean shrugged, “I just want to tell him what he means to me, that he’s important ... I want to…” Dean sighed and stirred the pot of chili.

Donna snuck up behind him, “Confess your love, maybe rattle a headboard or two?”

He laughed. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

“Well, I have to say, you’ve been pretty darn tootin’ happy. Don’t think I’ve ever seen ya smile this much.”

“Thanks Sheriff Donna.”

“Oh, anytime.” She winked at him and patted him on the back as she turned back to the bread on the counter. Most of the big loaf that Donna and Jody had brought was now sliced and waiting on some butter.

The chili needed more time to cook; meld all the flavours together until it was perfect and delicious. Dean hoped that Cas would try some. It made him happy to watch Cas enjoy some of the better parts of life. Great food was definitely one of those things.

Not to mention great sex. If the last few days were any indication of what tomorrow would be like, Dean a little worried he’d pass out when he came. Being with Cas was different—it went beyond physical pleasure.

Later that night, bellies filled with chili, they dragged chairs around the big table, Sam set up the projector and rigged his laptop to play a few Christmas movies.

The sat up didn’t lend itself easily to cuddling, but Dean dragged his chair beside Cas and took his hand for the movie. Over the course of the night, he kept sneaking glances to the side, watching Cas’ profile lit up by the dim lights.

Anticipation for the next day hummed under his skin, and he found himself smiling for no reason. For the first time in his whole life (at least that he could remember)  he was excited for Christmas Day. Needing an outlet for the itchy thrill coursing through him, Dean threaded his fingers between Cas’, sliding in and then pulling back, he grazed the pads of his fingers over the top of Cas’ hand, scratched up his arm and back down again.

By the end of the second movie— _Love Actually_ —Dean was more or less dishing out a hand massage. And the effect it had was that Cas was no longer watching the movie, but slumped in his chair with his face casually turned towards Dean.

An hour before midnight, they crawled into Dean’s bed, dumbass grins teasing their expression. Questions and excitement and a little impatience charged the atmosphere. Dean pulled Cas towards him and started to kiss him slow.

“Merry Cheesemas Eve Cas,” he whispered as they separated.

“Dean...”

The moment froze when Dean heard his name because it wasn’t soft and enamoured the way it normally was. It was like Cas was on the verge of bringing up something bad. “What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Cas stroked his cheek and kissed him. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing … Dean, I …” Again, Dean was kissed; it was sweet and soft and representative of everything he wanted for tomorrow. “I lo—“

_Shit!_ Dean slammed him with a kiss. When he pulled back, he replaced his mouth with his hand. “Whatever you were about to say, don’t say it. ‘Cause if you were about say what I think you were, it, uh, has to wait.”

Grimacing under Dean’s hand, Cas squeezed around him, pulling them into a tight horizontal embrace. Cautioning the angel with his eyes, Dean removed his hand. “Please, just, not yet.”

Cas sank his fingers into Dean’s hair and pulled a little. “Dean,” he whined, the sound low and rough. “It’s almost midnight … let’s stay up. I won’t be able to sleep. Even if I required sleep, I doubt I’d be able to close my eyes long enough for it to come.”

Dean was a little unsure about that himself to be honest, but he was dead set on trying. “Tomorrow,” he promised.

“And if you fall asleep … what do you suggest I do to keep myself occupied?”

Dean raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I guarantee there are ways to pass the time.”

Not giving Dean an inch, Cas pouted and said, “I want you.”

Fuckin’ hell. How was Dean supposed to say no to that? But even worse, how in god’s name was he ever gonna get some goddamn sleep. An idea suddenly presented itself. Cas didn’t need to sleep, Dean most definitely did … especially if he was to survive the next twenty-four hours. Besides, Cas did say he enjoyed taking care of Dean.

“Cas, I want you too,” he said, giving him a kiss on the mouth to accentuate the point, “but I need to sleep tonight. I need to physically and mentally prepare myself for tomorrow. Otherwise I’ll be grumpy and you wouldn’t be getting the best version of me there is. I want you to have that, okay? I want to be a better man than I’ve been. As stupid as it sounds, sleep will help.”

Cas stared at him and the grumpy expression gradually lessened. Dean continued, “I was actually thinking that maybe you could, uh, help me out?”

“How so?”

Dean shrugged (an odd thing to do lying down) and said, “Help me fall asleep?”

Squinting, Cas raised his hand between them, “Do you … want me to put you to sleep, um, instantaneously?” The angel went ET for a moment and made it seem like he was gonna poke Dean on the head.

‘No, no, no, not like that. I mean … like,” Dean suddenly felt pathetic, but he rambled anyway, “um, touch me, and play with my hair, rub my back.” Wow, he was being needy. He’d never been needy before. Was it okay to be needy? Was it really okay to ask for things like this? Would Cas think it was a chore?

All of his unspoken questions were answered the moment Cas cradled his face and pulled him in for a long, languorous kiss. Subtle moans built up from his chest from the soft feel of Cas licking in between his lips. When Cas drew back, Dean was breathing heavier than before, his emotions right up near the surface.

“Never be afraid or nervous to tell me what you want. Roll onto your front.”

Throwing Cas a quick smile, Dean twisted on the bed until he was on his stomach, his arms pushed under the pillow and his face turned to Cas’ side of the bed. But Cas was no longer there; he was gradually sliding on top of Dean, effectively straddling his ass.

“No funny business,” murmured Dean. It was smart of him to go to bed with underwear on. Cas, the fucking tease, had decided that being absolutely naked was the only way to be in Dean’s bed. Not that Dean was complaining. But it made keeping to his plans that much harder. Literally … harder.

“What about a _little_ funny business?” taunted Cas.

Dean felt Cas tug the back of his boxers down and then immediately Cas rode against him and the soft, hot feel of his cock rubbed into the top crease of Dean’s ass. Oh god, he tensed up all over and silently chanted: _tomorrowtomorrowtomorrowtomorrow._

“Not exactly helping me sleep,” he accused.

“Right. Sorry.” Cas settled himself and started to stroke into the muscles of Dean’s back. Cas’ strength took the massage from plain good to fucking incredible. Dean’s body bowed into the bed with the pressure, but it felt so good. His whole tingled towards unfathomable levels of relaxation.

He was so relaxed near the end of the massage that he probably wouldn’t have even noticed if Cas started to masturbate on top of him.

The touch graduated from a back massage to a scalp massage. All of his worries about tomorrow, and all the tension that had built up, was worked into putty. Nothing bothered him anymore because he was no longer conscious enough to worry about it.

Dean laid there half in a dream for a long, long while. Some part of him noticed when Cas whispered goodnight in his ear. In the still quiet of the night, Dean thought he heard Cas say, ‘I love you’, but it might’ve been the beginning of a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wine, snacks, tape stuck to me... Destiel love-making haunting my dreams. I love you guys xoxo


	13. *NOT A CHAPTER*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEEL FREE TO SIMPLY CLICK NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> I had posted this chapter to explain to my readers why I wouldn't be making my promised deadline of the last chapter on Christmas Day. There was a major fatal accident in my family and as a result, the end of this story was delayed for a few weeks. 
> 
> I thought of deleting this chapter altogether, but it felt like I was taking what happened and sweeping it under a rug or pretending it hadn't happened. All that said. I'm keeping this chapter here but removed by chaotic weird message I wrote that night cause I was grieving and distraught. I'll leave something else instead.

I shall leave this as a note to all my readers or anyone who stumbles upon this, please drive safely and watch out for other drivers. You never know when something awful can happen.


	14. On The Twelfth Day of Cheesemas, Let There Be Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally the last day and Dean can barely contain his excitement. He's nervous and doesn't quite understand why. He'd planned to commit to Cas, planned to tell him that he loved him, was ready to enjoy some long awaited sex. But he never expected to feel so exposed emotionally, so vulnerable. But that's why Cas is there ... to take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Long A/N...
> 
> I want to start off by saying that I am so incredibly grateful and in awe of all the wonderful comments received after my last non-chapter post. Honestly, they really did help lift my spirits during the whole ordeal. Every time an email came in from AO3, it made be feel that little bit better... which is HUGE when going through something like that. Especially because I had stupidly felt pretty guilty not being able to finish this story with the same gusto that I had started it. I would normally respond to every comment but there were quite a lot and I didn't want to drive up the overall comments on the fic for that reason, so I am using this as my all around response to all of you incredible people. Love you all so much. 
> 
> It has been really hard, to be honest, since Christmas Day and I spent my entire holiday going between the hospital and the funeral home, and I was kind of a wreck. It took a good while for me to be in the right frame of mind to write again, and I'm not even sure I'm all the way back again. Grief is such a bizarre emotion and it really screws you up. 
> 
> Anyway, I wasn't super happy with the way this last chapter turned out but I don't know if it's all in my head or not. Either way, I am sure that this is not me at my best and I'm really really sorry. I was absolutely loving writing this story and then everything happened, and it sucks that it ended on a sadder note. I do hope that you guys like it and I want to eventually write a kinky new years chapter at some point but I don't know when that will happen because I'm supposed to be finishing my spn reverse band story by January 25th *Fingers crossed*
> 
> As always, I made multiple last minute edits, so please don't blame my beta's for me being a spazz lol. And AO3 is putting weird spaces near my italicized words... I think I got them all, but I might have missed some.
> 
> Finally I wanted to specifically thank Tennyo for being there and helping me get my mojo back :) 
> 
> Well, without further delay, here it is XD

Something pulled Dean out of the depths of sleep. A touch, or words, or maybe both. He stretched against the mattress and tried to turn over. It was slow going, his muscles taking their sweet ass time to get with the program, limbs moving lazily. The tangle of sheets didn’t help.

Finally settled on his right side, he was awake enough to feel the brush of fingers over the arch of his eyebrow.

“Cas?” he mumbled.

Even with his eyes closed, Dean felt Cas move in close for a kiss. He pursed his lips to receive the good morning greeting.

“Merry Christmas Dean.”

A slow smile grew in Dean’s sleepy expression and he stretched again. “Hmm, Merry Christmas Cas. Were you talking to someone?”

“You.”

“I was sleeping,” he said, confused.

“That is true. You were also talking in your sleep. It was quite entertaining, and if I asked you things you answered, though it was difficult to make out what you meant.”

Well _that_ was new. Dean opened his eyes and found Cas no more than three inches from his face. It was the best sight to wake up to. A little disconcerting, however, to realize that he was spewing God knows what while he slept.

“What did I say?” he wondered cautiously.

Cas chuckled, which was a bad sign. “One of the things you said was: ‘Cas, you’re like the sun.’ And I asked you why, and you smiled in your sleep and said, ‘cause you make me hot,’ and then you laughed.”

It was so ridiculous and embarrassing that Dean snorted his way into a laugh. “Hitting on you in my sleep … damn I’m good.”

“And here I was worried my night would be uneventful.”

Watching the delight in Cas’ expression, the way he smiled at Dean with total affection drew Dean towards him like a magnet. He kissed Cas’ lush lips, breathed him in, and tried to tamper down images of the two of them getting sweaty and very carnally acquainted.

Dean prepared himself to argue with Cas the same as he’d done the night before, but it seemed Cas finally understood that Dean had a plan for the day, that he didn’t want to rush things. As great as it would’ve been to stay in bed and hastily tick off the box for today’s events within ten minutes of being conscious, it would’ve felt like he was cheating Cas out of what he truly deserved.

After getting dressed slowly, exchanging long looks in the process, they eventually reached a state of being presentable and left the room to meet up with rest of the gang.

Everyone was already bustling in the kitchen; the smells of sizzling bacon and grease thick on the air. Merry Christmases and Merry Cheesemases were said and hugs were given. There was a positive energy in the room that put smiles on everyone’s faces.

The day seemed to be pass by incredibly slow, but it wasn’t unenjoyable because of it. In a way it was settling, giving Dean time to think over everything he wanted to say. All five of them spent the day munching and talking, telling stories, enjoying each other’s company.

The bunker felt more like home than it had ever felt. And throughout the day, Dean gravitated towards Cas as often as he could. During breakfast, he’d listed to the side so their shoulders could touch. While trading war stories in the library, Dean sat on the table and pulled Cas to stand between his legs facing out towards the rest of their extended family. There was a casualness in how they touched each other; but it was only an outward appearance. Running in the current between them was anything but casual. Every touch screamed of anticipation and things to come. It was like being shocked every time his fingers reached out to feel something solid. Even under the layer of clothing (just so happened to be the plaid shirt Dean had bought him) Dean felt the heat of Cas’ skin, the energy pulsing beneath it.

Angel or not, Cas was ramped up the same as he was.

When the time dwindled down towards the evening, Dean took Sam off to the side and asked him to keep Cas occupied for a little while.

“Um, how long?”

“Enough time for me to romance the shit out of my room.”

“Okay … so like a half an hour?” Sam shrugged.

Dean debated, rocking his head side to side, “ _Eeeh_. Yeah, that’ll do it.” Man, nervous tension gripped his insides like a vice. “Maybe give me forty … that should give me enough time to have a heart attack and recover.”

Sam chuckled. “What are you even worried about? You already know Cas loves you … it’s not like he’s gonna laugh at you or walk away.”

“Grand gestures, Sammy, not usually my thing. I mean, yeah, sure, making a grand entrance with some fire power and a cocky go get’em attitude, I’ve done that a crapton of times, but busting out the deep feelsies? It’s fucking terrifying, man.” Dean’s eyes shot over to Cas, who was standing with the two women talking about who-knew-what at the other end of the room.

“You’ll do fine, Dean. And for godsakes, try to keep the noise levels down, would ya?”

“No promises,” Dean called over his shoulder as he walked off to his room. Each step was filled with something along the lines of dread. But without the morbid undertone that normally accompanied it. The second he was in his room with the door closed, he stopped short.

“Oh, shit.”

Shaking out as much stress as he could, Dean mentally coached himself into action. There wasn’t necessarily a lot to prepare. Most of it was setting himself up to do the whole continued talking speech thing.

Man, he hoped he wouldn’t sound like an idiot.

…

Precisely thirty-seven minutes later, Dean stood to the side of his bed and wished he could’ve swiped deodorant over his entire body.  How was it even possible to be _this_ nervous?

‘Course, there was the whole impending sex situation, and it’d been a long time since Dean had been fucked like that. And certainly not by a goddamn Angel of the Lord. A shiver ran through him. Which was impressive considering how warm he was, and considering the fuckload of candles around his room. Oh yes, Dean had whipped out the candles. Not just useful for witchy spells, ya know.

God, hopefully nothing caught fire by accident. Talk about a mood killer.

Cas knocked. He _knocked_ , because he _knew._ Shitshitshitshit.

Wiping his forehead, Dean said, “Come in.”

Cas walked in, his eyes instantly growing wide at the state of the room. Everything froze for a split second, and Dean would swear until his dying day that even the candles ceased to flicker for a span of breath.

“Hi,” said Dean, his voice all wrong.

Cas broke out into the kind of smile that Dean felt in the very centre of his heart. “Hello Dean.”

It was ridiculous, and he laughed with a nervous edge. “Um, so,” he scratched his two-day old scruff and found his gaze stuck to the floor, “Fuck.”

Dean looked up, all the words he wanted to say were suddenly wrong and unworthy and stupid. Why had he needed words in the first place? Cas stood patiently, his blue eyes locked on Dean, the yellow-orange flicker of the candles dancing over his skin.

All the air rushed out of Dean’s lungs in one swift exhale and he crossed the room in two strides and took Cas in his arms, the two of them slamming hard against the door.

Fuck yes...

Lips hovering on the edge of a kiss, foreheads pressed together, Dean strained for oxygen. Where the hell had all the oxygen gone?

“Cas,” he rushed out, his fingers cradling Cas’ face, tracing the shell of his ear, the curve of his jaw. Dean opened his mouth, the world stumbling to a screeching halt…

“I love you,” the three words came out in a near sob, like they’d been torn out of him. The breadth of the emotion rose up to swallow him, his throat unbearably tight, eyes burning. Dean pulled in a steadying breath, and spoke again, “I love you so fucking much, it’s goddamn terrifying,” he continued, hating the rickety sound of his voice.

It was nothing eloquent or refined, not exactly how he’d planned it. All his efforts in being sauve had been shot to shit. Before he knew it, he was moving in for a desperate kiss, groaning at the feel of Cas’ lips pressed against his, the smooth warmth radiating in him the feeling of home.

Interrupting the kiss, having to use gentle force to combat Dean’s insistence, Cas drew in a breath and whispered, “I love you too, Dean ... I’ve _always_ loved you. Loved you since the moment I touched you…” A conspiring grin lifted Cas’ expression, “...and I’m _certain_ Heaven knew it. Probably before I did.”

Remembering all the times Cas had been reprimanded for his attachment to Dean certainly fortified Cas’ suspicions. The notion pulled a soft laugh from Dean, both of them drawn back to the past. Reconciling how they began to how they were, and what was to come, Dean had a serious ‘Oh fuck’ moment, knowing he’d start weeping if he didn’t get his shit together.

Stroking Cas’ cheeks with his thumbs, he said stiffly, “Yeah, you were a bit slow on the uptake. And I was in denial. Quite the pair, huh?” Holding his emotions in check made his tone almost harsh and Dean sorely wished he weren’t hard-wired that way, wished he was able to be honest and open without the fear of falling apart. How did normal people do it?

“Yes, well,” Cas replied, “we did have a number of things working against us.”

Dean conceded with a half-smile, shrugging in a lame acceptance. “ _Still_... I’m sorry.”

“For what?” asked Cas innocently.

Chewing the inside of his lip, Dean searched Cas’ eyes for courage to say things that unraveled him. “Just… I dunno… that I’m crap at this stuff,” he shrugged “that no matter how hard I try to make things perfect with you that I’m still pissed at myself for waiting so long, for being a dick for too damn long, for a whole slew of crap, Cas. I default to being an asshole more often than not, and you never deserved that bullshit from me.”

An indulgent but reprimanding faint smile worked into Cas’ patient expression, and he said simply, “Dean… shut up.”

An epic wave of gratitude and love clamoured over him, and Dean tried to smile back, but he felt sort of loose and unhinged. A bad sign if he were hoping to keep those waterworks in check. He muttered a gruff, “Okay,” and went back to Cas’ mouth, hungrily, licking between his lips and moaning at the feel of Cas’ tongue sliding in beside his.

 _Yesss…_ This was exactly what Dean craved. Need exploded between them after a few teasing licks in the other’s mouth. All that slick taste and heat only a precursor to the main event.

It was a scramble towards the bed; neither of them caring to look exactly where the thing was, just stumbling around and hoping they’d make a good landing and not wind up on the floor.

“Candles,” muttered Dean as a warning against Cas’ mouth. Sure, he was all for things being hot between them, but actual flames would be a definite no, thank you.

Ignoring Dean’s warning about the flickering fire-hazards, Cas growled, “Clothes,” and wrenched the button-up Dean was wearing off his shoulders and down his arms. The buttoned cuffs caught at his hands. Dean never had time to properly nudge them off because Cas slipped a finger into the fabric and with one quick move, the small plastic buttons were sent bouncing onto the floor.

Dean left Cas’ mouth only long enough to kiss his way towards the angel’s ear. “You owe me a shirt.”

“Yes, and I’ll owe you jeans as well.”

Before Dean could process the statement, Cas had his hands into the front of Dean’s jeans and tore them open. Eyes a little wide, and slapped with a new level of arousal, Dean’s jaw dropped as Cas continued with the clothes-destruction. The nice jeans, a decent quality dark pair too, were absolutely ruined and now being hauled down to his ankles.

It took all of eight seconds, Dean guessed, for Cas to strip him naked. His entire Christmas outfit (one that he’d painstakingly chosen because it made him look awesome) was now in a sad state on the floor. And ya know what, he wasn't even bothered.

Dean met Cas’ blazing stare, hit the angel up with a hard kiss—a _promising_ kind of kiss—and sat back onto the bed, shuffling to the centre and laying himself out on it. Holy crap, there was making a grand gesture, and then there was presenting yourself like a buffet. Dean trembled under the attention.

With Cas standing by the end of the bed, towering over him, it brought the tight edge of nerves to a screaming state. Every fibre of him itched for contact, needing it more than air.

“Cas,” he pleaded. As he said the name, he felt his erection give a desperate kick at his hips.

Cas noticed, his eyes drawn low and growing dark. They stayed locked on Dean’s thick sex as Cas methodically peeled off his own clothes. Every revealed plane of skin brought a sigh to Dean’s lips. The candlelight flickered, creating ever-shifting shadows to dance over Cas’ form.

“Fuckin’ tease,” he accused, his brain dumbing down as he watched the show.

When Cas finally dragged his boxers down, his erection popping up out over the waistband, Dean licked his dry lips and clenched his ass.

“Better?” Cas looked down at him, an eyebrow arched. Dean grabbed at the bedspread and nodded, a subtle moan escaping.

Fuck. Taking in the sight of Cas stark naked, all that firm muscle and lean lines standing tall was like nothing else in the world. It made Dean hot at his very core, his skin covered in goosebumps. Christ, his asshole fucking _tingled_ , the sensation screwing up his thoughts. There was nothing he wanted more. Dean swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “Dammit Cas … touch me.”

Cas grinned and bent over the edge of the mattress. Just enough to grab Dean’s foot and lift his leg. Not sure what to expect, Dean watched in rapture as Cas leaned in and pressed a kiss to his instep. And wow, yeah, that ridiculously gentle press of lips shot straight to Dean’s cock. Whaddya know, Dean Winchester liked the foot stuff. Huh.

Cas worked his way up Dean’s body in the same manner, all about the soft traced kisses over every curve of muscle and every hard edge of bone. Some kisses tingled, and sometimes Cas used his teeth—like he was doing now on the softer inside of Dean’s thigh. It made him squirm and his cock twitched.

Even when Cas made it to his hips, the damn angel didn’t direct attention to Dean’s stiff sex, he navigated his teasing lips and tongue around, sucking over Dean’s skin four inches to the left of where Dean _actually_ wanted that mouth.

“Cas,” he pleaded candidly, rolling his hips up from the bed. Nothing touched his cock but warm air.

Mollifying Dean with a soft, “Sshhh…”, Cas dragged his tongue up the expanse of Dean’s abdomen, making every muscle quiver as the contrast of cool and warm, and wet and dry, took him for a ride.

It was obvious that despite the whole Cheesemas gig being Dean’s idea to begin with, Cas had taken control. Dean let him, but it wasn’t an easy task to calm his impatience.

God, it felt like a year had passed by the time Cas was sucking at his neck, murmuring against his skin just below his ear. “ _Mmm_ ... love you,” Cas said in a thick voice, lips grazing Dean. “More than you know.” Cas nuzzled into him, their bodies shifting closer. “So warm,” he whispered, “vibrant… _Extraordinary_.”

Old predispositions had Dean wanting to protest Cas’ affections. Instead, he reached for Cas’ shoulders and grounded himself, allowing every word to settle around him. Thankfully, Dean knew that Cas wasn’t looking for a response on his part. Which was perfect, because the only thing coming out his mouth anyway were breathy little whimpers and the odd utterance of “Please,” when he figured out how his vocals worked again.

“Never wanted something more,” Cas told him right before he pulled the fleshy part of Dean’s ear in between his teeth, nipping and sucking at it until Dean thought he’d scream. Evidently he was being taught more about his own erogenous zones than he ever could’ve fathomed on his own. His ears, outer hips, and the soles of his feet were one-hundred percent ‘ _ON_ ’ buttons for Dean. Oh, and Cas sucking red marks along the insides of his thighs—that was damn fucking good too.

Minutes ticked by. Firm hands roamed all over Dean, fingers pinched his softer areas teasingly, thick lips warmed his skin. Hmmm, and that tongue … leaving wet trails down his neck, across his chest.

Dean’s patience finally snapped.

He grabbed Cas and pulled him in tight for a kiss; a hard, impassioned, tongue-fucking of a kiss. Not caring about decence or propriety, he moaned into Cas’ mouth, canting his hips up against Cas’ body, feeling—for the first time tonight—the hard length of Cas’ sex.

“Fuck me,” he demanded, his voice raspy. Dean opened his eyes when he realized they’d slipped shut and met Cas’ heated black stare. “Oh God, Cas, I’m dying here … I need to feel you … _all of you_.”

To emphasize his roaring desperation, Dean spread his legs wide and pulled his knees back. A wanton moan escaped and Cas attacked him with a savage kiss, all bite and exhilaration.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas’ voice rumbled against Dean’s bare chest, a deep resonating baritone. It was a warning, because in the next breath, Cas thrust against him. It was _expertly_ done; with Cas positioned perfectly between his legs, the jutting head of his cock pushed hard against Dean’s entrance. Not that anything happened as far as penetration was concerned, but Dean felt as if every cell inside him was on the verge of rupturing.

“Oh god,” he stammered, “... _again_.”

And Cas did, claiming the space between Dean’s legs, both of them moaning as Cas worked his cock in between Dean’s asscheeks, pushing insistently.

Too lost in the moment, too enthralled by the feel of touching each other with such paramount intimacy, neither of them bothered to take things one step further. Dean was beyond fathoming that there could be anything further. The blunt press of Cas’ cock continually nudging against his tight hole was mind-shattering. He arched into it, groaning and pleading in shaky whispers.

Dean’s body knew what it wanted long before his mind had the capacity to catch up. Every hot prod of Cas’ sex, Dean whimpered and tried to relax, but arousal took over and every muscle locked up. His cock jerked between them, aching for touch.

Reaching up, Dean framed Cas’ gorgeous heavy-lidded expression and stared up at him. He fucking lost his breath, all the air rushing out in awe of how much he loved Cas. Every suffocating emotion that he’d feared for so long rose up like a swift tidal wave and began to choke him.

A short, rough-sounding sob caught in his throat and Dean bit his lower lip to hold it all at bay. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled, his jaw tight.

“It’s okay to be emotional,” whispered Cas, the angel lowering down to brush Dean’s lips with a reassuring kiss.

No, he wanted to argue, it was pathetic. “I’m, uh ... I’m overwhelmed or some lame shit, I don’t know,” he tried to explain. “Sorry—”

“Dean,” chastised Cas, his voice gravelly and thick.

Pressing his lips together to cut off his dumb rambling, Dean nodded his compliance and blinked away as much unwarranted emotion as he could.

Cas’ strong hands rubbed Dean’s hips, pinching the soft flesh as he moved in and kissed Dean’s mouth harder than before. In the same moment, their hips collided, Cas’ unrelenting erection striving for entrance with enough force to make Dean wince. Even so, he pulled back from Cas’ mouth and pleaded, “Cas … _please.”_

“We have lots of time,” Cas insisted.

The idea of waiting any longer actually hurt. Despite the strength of his own willpower, Dean felt the heat of tears pool in his eyes. He clenched his jaw. “Dammit, Cas, I’m seriously falling apart here, just fuck me…”

Relief and promise coursed through him when Cas eased up and pressed a hand on the back of Dean’s thigh, holding him in position. Anticipating immediate sex, Dean stretched towards the nightstand but he didn’t make it far before Cas grabbed his forearm and drew it back in.

“We’ll get there, Dean. I want to take my time preparing you,” said Cas. “Over the last several days,” he explained, “you’ve been patient and considerate with me, I’d love the opportunity to be the same with you.”

Dean whined. “No preparation needed. Trust me, Cas … I’m fuck-ready.” So what if it hurts, he thought, the sooner Cas gets inside, the better.

“Do you really think you’re going to win this argument?”

Staring up at Cas, Dean tried to judge the stern set of Cas’ features, searching for weaknesses. There were none. Dammit. Dean had factored in giving over his body, and manned up enough say _I love you_ to Cas, but being stripped raw emotionally scared him more than anything else. And each second leading up to the act he felt the layers peeling off.

Reserving his words for a time when his voice would be steadier, he shook his head and tried to relax against the bed. For all the sex he’d had in his life, none of it prepared him for this. It occurred to Dean that maybe he hadn’t been in love with Lisa after all—maybe just the idea of her.

Cas held his eyes as he reached for the bottle of lube. Dean watched Cas flick the cap open, stared as he squeezed a sufficient amount onto two of his fingers and… lowered those slick fingers between Dean’s legs.

“Ohhh…” It was cool and wet, pulling a gasp from Dean’s mouth as Cas’ fingers glided between his cheeks. They dragged, slippery, along his crease, rubbing at his asshole—not quite pushing but working at him all the same.

Dean started to strain for air, his thighs tightening against his chest. Cas’ touch shifted towards purpose, rubbing circles against his hole, teasing the nerve-ridden entrance with relentless sensation.

“Oh my god…” he droned impatiently, his jaw tight.

Cas switched between his fingers and his thumb; a constant barrage of _not enough_ and _holy hell._ Dean started to squirm, working his hips towards Cas’ touch and demanding more.

Meeting Dean’s fluttering eyes, Cas leaned forward and planted his left forearm across the backs of Dean’s thighs—essentially keeping him balled up and exposed. Without warning, Cas speared him with one finger, pulled back before Dean could take a breath, and added another.

Dean shook. “Oh fuck yeah … more, Cas … _more_.”

A low chuckle blew out past Cas’ lips and he bit his lip before twisting his two fingers deeper, corkscrewing them in and out of Dean’s ass. The slick drag of in and out, the subtle bumps of each knuckle had Dean panting for precious oxygen. It didn’t help that his legs were tucked against his chest, forced down with the weight of Cas’ upper body bearing down on him.

“Good?” asked Cas, glancing at Dean with sincere uncertainty.

He had to laugh. “You kidding me?” Dean closed his eyes and moaned, distracted by sensations, trying to move into the touch. “Damn good, Cas. Real damn good.”

Without leverage or freedom to move, Dean struggled under Cas’ ministrations. Two fingers moving in and out of him, fast and shallow. And then drawn out and rough, fingers curling up inside to seek out the spot that drew the type of sounds out of his mouth that were simply … embarrassing. A lot of keening whimpers and aborted curses. Some needy groans and outright pleading. Every time his breath hitched, he bit down on his lip and focused on something other than falling apart.

Cas’ hair hung down over his forehead, dark strands growing messier by the minute. Dean wanted to thread his fingers between the softness and pull a little. Before the thought was solidified, Dean was already reaching towards Cas’ forehead, loving the way his angel lowered his head so that Dean could snake his fingers into the thickness and grab on.

Down below, Cas withdrew both fingers, leaving Dean untouched for a fraction of a second. A protest was ready on the tip of his tongue, but the feel of a thicker stretch shut him right up. Three fingers, he was sure, stretched into him … deeper and deeper, feeling upward and coaxing him into a tense aching wreck.

“Ah … jesus,” Dean breathed, “so fuckin’ good…”

The damn angel was relentless; working into Dean and brushing against his prostate with an intensity that he could barely handle. Dean started to fall apart.

“Cas, _Cas…_ Oh, fuuuuck.” The angel in question twisted his fingers deep, turning up and stroking him. “Mm, what are you—ah-ahh-ah,” Dean groaned in patches, each sound flushed out of him with the repeated curling motions of Cas’ explorative insistent fingers. Dean was going to come, he could feel it building, boiling from the centre of his pelvis and the heavy feel of his balls.

Cas pushed down on him, worked him over a bit rougher, fingers moving faster. The tension was rising fast. Dean wasn’t ready to finish this way. “No, no, no,” he babbled, “gonna finish … stop Cas. Don’t want—”

“Trust me,” commanded Cas, sinking three fingers slowly inside.

Dean rocked his head from side to side in protest, but couldn’t find the words because Cas’ ministrations were too distracting. He used his grip on Cas’ hair to jerk the angel’s head back and looked hard into Cas’ wild gaze. “Cas…” he pleaded, not even sure what he was asking for anymore.

“Don’t move.” Cas glared at him. “Please trust me,” he said once more.

Not sure what Cas had planned, Dean had somehow reached the point of readily agreeing to anything that came out of Cas’ mouth, so he bobbed his head agreeably, muttering, “Yeah, ah fuck, okay … okay,” and held every muscle in check. Every muscle was shaking of course, but he didn't move.

Lifting off of Dean’s thighs, Cas eased up just enough to remove the barricade of his arm and instead reached between Dean’s legs and secured his fingers tight around Dean’s cock. Too tight, Dean thought. It didn’t hurt, but—

“Fuuuck, fuckin’ hell ... oh shit!” Dean thrashed despite his promise.

Cas had taken possession of everything below the waist; fingers plunging into him and riding up against his prostate, a fist secured around his shaft and squeezing up to arouse, but too hard to allow ejaculation. “Oh-oh-ohhh-fuuuck … Cas, _ah_ , what, I don’t … oh fuck. Yeah, yeah, yeah … right, _mmm_ , like that … a little slow _wwwer._ ”

Pleasure spiked hard, in a telling, no-going-back kind of way. “Waitwaitwait… ooooh, fuuuck.”

A dry heat blasted through him and satisfying aches rocked his insides, but he didn’t feel relieved, didn’t feel the warm wetness of come pooling around his groin. It felt good but not good enough, almost like it heightened his arousal to a point that angered him. None of it made sense. Dean was aware, in the back of his mind, what Cas had done to him, but while he felt like he’d had an orgasm, his cock was still rock hard and his balls so heavy and sensitive that he dreaded the idea of walking with those poor bastards between his legs.

“Cas, Cas… do something,” he said cryptically. A rush of emotion welled in his chest and he sensed the embarrassing heat return to his eyes. “I need”—his breath hitched—“I need you.”

The threat of full-blown waterworks hovered on the edge of becoming a reality. A _pathetic_ reality. Dean dragged his own fingers over his scalp and down his face, trying to pull himself back together. He was shaking, he was cold and warm at the same time.

“Dean, relax … You’re squirming. I don’t want to hurt you.”

What? Glancing up through a haze of a confusion, Dean noticed Cas had one hand hooked under Dean’s knee, pulling his leg to the side and the other trying to guide his thick jutting erection to Dean’s fully prepped ass.

Taking a long moment, Dean breathed deep and calmed his own insanity.

Finally, he reached forward and grabbed Cas’ forearm, his mouth curving into a lazy smirk. “Listen, I’m about eighty percent sure this might kill me, so if I die… remember that I love you, you fucking sex master.”

Cas beamed down at him and let go of his own sex for a brief moment to give Dean’s erection and good long appreciative stroke. “I’d _never_ let you die,” he promised with sheer conviction.

Dean laughed. “It’s a joke, Cas.”

“Regardless, I mean it, Dean. I will protect you until the last light of grace leaves me … until the last breath is gone from my lungs.”

Stunned, Dean stared with wide eyes at Cas’ solemnity and profound vow. What would a brute like Dean even say in response to that. Of all the things he could’ve said, he decided to be unabashedly himself, “You cheesey dork, fuck me already or I’m kicking you out.”

A beautiful, carefree laugh breezed through Cas, and he gave Dean’s inner thigh a cursory squeeze before taking himself in hand and moving into place.

Dean felt his breath catch when the heat and wetness of Cas’ cock settled against his readied entrance. One push, he begged silently, just one nudge and he’d feel that solid length spread into him.

“Dean,” Cas said, all serious tone and serious blue eyes.

Staring back and waiting, Dean reached for Cas the same moment Cas reached for him, both of them grappling for hands and faces. He spread his legs wide, knees out towards his shoulders. Eyes locked and dark with arousal, Cas pushed into him all at once. Dean gasped just as their hips thumped together with a dull slap, everything flush and slick and hot. Every thought ripped clear from his mind. All that resonated was the tight stretch of his rim around the thick base of Cas’ shaft, and the unbelievable fullness. God, soooo full.

Had he even been fucked before? Because in that moment, Dean was sure he’d never felt anything so intimate, so mind-shattering, so fucking damn good. To be fair, every other time he’d bottomed … he’d been fucking smashed.

He heard Cas’ thick, raw voice before the words lined up into english. “How do you want it?”

Dean blew out a delighted sigh. “Oh damn, Cas. You’ve no idea how much of a turn on it is for you to say that. Fuck…” Rolling his eyes back and clenching around Cas’ iron-hard cock, Dean vaguely thought about how he indeed did want it. “Fast,” he said after shamelessly rocking his hips against Cas, “hard,” he continued, “Don’t want you to hold back … I want to see you fall apart just like me. Let me watch you lose control.”

Cas frowned. “ _Dean_.” It was a warning, reminding Dean that Cas was strong enough to fuck him literally through a wall if he wanted.

Totally acceptable, he decided. “I can handle it,” he assured Cas. “Let go for me, show me how bad you want this.” To kick up his game a notch, Dean smirked and rolled his body against Cas’ hips, arching up and showcasing all his Dean Winchester real estate. Not that he had high praise for his own physique anymore, but he knew Cas loved every inch of him and that was all that mattered.

With a grating sigh from Cas, Dean moaned in triumph. Stern blue eyes met his lust-filled green ones and it was the last thing he truly saw with any frame of clarity before it started. The sex that would turn him into a fucking mess of a man. Cas pulled back until his cockhead caught at Dean’s rim and then plunged back in hard and fast. Dean swore sharply and felt his entire frame absorb the hard jerk of Cas’ body against him.

“ _Uhhn_ ,” Cas groaned. “You’re so … _hot_.”

Dean parted his lips to breathe, but Cas slammed into him once, twice, harder, a third time, and faster. And he couldn’t breathe anymore. Snippets of air seeped down into his lungs and he managed to get by but the world started to spin and his back dragged against the lumpy bedspread.

Harsh moans and thick grunts were fucked right out of his throat, his mouth drier than sand, his skin hot and tingling with the first beadings of sweat. “Oh-uhh-uhh-uhn-fuck… _mmngh_!” Each thrust another clip of sound punched out.

Cas was no longer an angel, he was a fucking animal. Dean was in awe, watching in rapture like he was outside of himself. Cas had a tight grip on Dean’s hip with one hand, and a hooked grasp over Dean’s left shoulder with the other, both holds more than sufficient leverage to manhandle Dean however Cas wanted.

Dean wasn’t just being fucked, his entire body was worked over Cas’ stiff, solid cock again and again. God he loved every second of it.

“More, uuhhn, yeah—FUCK!” Biting his lips, Dean gave in completely. He was hammered into the mattress without apology, crunched up under Cas, barely able to breathe. Dammit, it was the best goddamn sex he’d ever had.

Unfortunately, Cas’ exertions drove him higher on the bed.

Something annoying wedged under his head, but Cas pounded against him, making any kind of coherent thought about as easy as catching a fly mid-flight. Dean groaned at the thick commanding stretch of Cas’ sex pumping into him, the solid shaft overloading his nerves with insistent pressure.

There was a cramp starting in his neck, and the stupid lube was drying up and Dean growled out of frustration, yelling, “Goddammit!” He wrenched back one of his hands—having to pry it off of Cas’ bicep—and yanked the pillow out from under his head and whipped it somewhere not the fuck under his head.

A clatter beyond the bed pierced their heated sex bubble … as did a large flicker of light … and then, “Dean!”

Sporting an angry, irritated expression, Cas speared into him in one solid rut, balls slapping flush against Dean’s ass, keeping him full as Cas twisted at the waist and extended an arm behind him towards the door. Without Cas’ torso to obstruct the view, Dean saw that the pillow had knocked several candles off his tall dresser and had started a steady, but _very_ small fire.

Oops. Thank God Cas had fire-snuffing mojo. The growing light receded, and _yesss_ , time to resume the epic fuckfest.

Turning his steely gaze back to Dean, Cas said, “If you want me to fall apart Dean, I suggest not distracting me with the occasional blaze!”

Dean smiled and shrugged, arms held up in surrender. Registering Cas’ power, _feeling it_ , Dean’s body responded and his erection jerked helplessly against his stomach, precome seeping out and smearing across his skin.

A low growl permeated the room and Dean writhed from the rumble of it, wondering what it feel like to sit on Cas’ chest and have him make the same sound again. Man, he was seriously in love.

Blinking a few times to reorient himself, Dean was overloaded with Cas all around him—hands groping, dick nestled deep, that beautiful face moving in closer.

Moans tumbled out of him when Cas’ tongue dipped in between his lips, licking into his mouth in a possessive way, as if Dean was something that belonged to Cas. Same as before, the terrifying emotions built up like a mountain inside, his eyes watering up. But this time he didn’t stop it, Dean was so in love with Cas that it ached everywhere. Pained him in a way that he couldn’t explain. As though all of this wasn’t nearly enough. Some stupid fear that nothing would ever be enough, that he could crawl into the destructive heat of Cas’ grace and it _still_ wouldn’t be enough.

Well … shit.

Dean was now openly weeping, and yet simultaneously whimpering against Cas’ slick lips, “Harder, Cas, oh my god, fuck me harder … yeahyeahyeah … _mmph_ , ah, ahhh … _kissss me!_ ”

Cas held him tight and kissed him hard, dominating Dean’s mouth with a skilled tongue. A tongue that Dean wondered about, imagined what it could do. Pictured it flicking against his asshole shamelessly. A needy groan pouring between them.

Pulling away from Dean’s swollen lips, Cas turned his face to the side and whispered against the shell of Dean’s ear, “After I come I’ll work you over with my tongue until you come again… Is that what you want, Dean?”

Amidst choppy, raspy breaths, Dean managed to respond, “ _Impossible_ ,” because he’d finish with Cas emptying into his ass, he knew it, and there was no fucking way he’d be capable of getting it up so soon after that.

“Nothing’s impossible,” came Cas’ rough voice, hot and moist and tickling the side of his face. Dean squirmed and a high-pitched moan escaped him as he pictured Cas’ head buried between his legs, a skillful tongue lapping messily between his cheeks.

Head swimming, Dean shoved against the headboard, abruptly pissed off with it’s existence and proximity. “Ugh… fix it!” Dean yelled, pushing at the wood, his angry stare imploring Cas to obliterate the fucking thing.

“Come here,” said Cas, immediately taking control for a new position. The angel slipped his arms under Dean’s back and heaved him up from the bed, his head hanging back on the way up, a little dazed.

His arms lazily rounded Cas’ neck, hands slipping into the sweaty tufts of hair at the back of Cas’ head. Dean pulled gently, guiding Cas’ head back so that he could fully see his face, without shadows, without obstruction. Things felt saner all of a sudden. Like he could see again.

Dean squeezed his ass around Cas’ intrusive cock. “Hey sexy.”

Cas smiled broadly and lowered his hands to Dean’s hips, angling up for a kiss. “Hello Dean.”

“Are you enjoying Cheesemas?” he asked in a flirtatious tone, grinding in Cas’ lap shamelessly, his mind so much clearer from the change in position. Much better with his head elevated than being repeatedly rocked on the mattress and occasionally knocking against the headboard.

Without saying a word, Cas grinned devilishly and hoisted Dean up the full, impressive length of his shaft only to roughly haul him back down. _Hard_ . The thick smack of their bodies coming together resonated around the room and Dean let out a delirious laugh, every cell in him racing around like happy little bastards on ecstasy. Christ, he was gonna be high for days. _From sex!_

“C’mon, Cas … use your words not your dick.”

Holding Dean tight, one hand scratching up the length of his spine, Cas peered hard into his eyes, and said, “Enjoyment doesn’t even _begin_ to describe how I feel with you.”

Dean’s stomach tightened with nerves. “Try anyway…”

“To describe it?”

Nodding, Dean watched the mixture of thoughts play across Cas’ dewy features. It was really hot to see Cas all sweaty, flushed, aroused … muscles bunched up all hard and tight.

 _Mmmm_...

“Disorienting,” began Cas, holding Dean in place and rutting into him with gentle thrusts. “Hot,” he added, his eyes widening in amazement. “Um, tingles … like electricity in the centre of a storm.”

 _Ugghh_ , that _voice_ , thought Dean. That goddamn deep, sexy voice. Dean let it wash over him, listened to Cas continue to describe what fucking him was like, even as he continued to do exactly that. He caught tendrils of words, like: _tight,_ and _slick,_ and _heavy._

Half out of his mind and no doubt misconstruing things, Dean mumbled, “You think I’m heavy?” Saying the words, he was acutely and suddenly aware of being bounced up and down on Cas’ blunt, feverish cock.

“No,” Cas clarified. “ _Me_. Uhm, hard to explain,” he rasped out. “That sense of-of …  sinking, being pulled down.” Cas made a soft sound and nuzzled into Dean, kissing over his collarbone. “Dean, I’m…” Sighing a few times, Cas moaned against Dean’s skin and said, “...close, I’m close.”

At some point, Dean was positive the world had begun to spin like a top. So much for a clear head in this position. That was _long_ gone. Maybe he needed to readjust again, take a new position and a few precious seconds to catch his breath and clear his head. God, he never wanted this to end. Placing his shaky hands on Cas’ shoulders he eased himself off of Cas with a wince.

Oh mother of fuck… they needed to replenish the lube or he was going to be broken after this. Planting himself on all fours ready for the barrage of top-notch fucking to continue, he glanced over his shoulder and said, “Need more…” hoping to hell that Cas got the meaning.

Dean swayed, feeling a paramount exhaustion in his limbs, distantly heard the cap of the bottle being flicked open, the dull slippery sounds of Cas’ fist working the liquid around his sex. The remnants on Cas’ hands were wiped on Dean’s ass and he laughed. “I’m not a towel,” he mumbled towards the bed.

“Mmm…” Dean droned, hanging his head, feeling Cas palm up the length of his spine and press down between his shoulder blades. Taking the cue, Dean lowered his chest to the bed, resting his face on his stacked hands. Cas’ free hand groped Dean’s ass and squeezed, opening him up, cool air rushing over his loosened hole. “Fuuuuuck, Cas…” The hand on his ass disappeared for a second as Cas guided his length back into Dean’s body.

Dean groaned through the entire penetration, his breath warm and moist exhaling in a long gush.

For a moment, he wondered if Cas forgot how he wanted it. Because despite the change-up of positions and sporadic weeping on his part, he still wanted Cas to fuck him like there was no tomorrow.

“Don’t worry, Dean … I can’t hold back even if I wanted to.”

Dean managed one full breath before Cas let loose, pistoning into him with remarkable force and speed. He braced himself each time to take the impact, moaning loud and obscene, feeling full … everything tight and _right_ , so fucking _right_ that it scared him to hell. Nails raked down his back, and Dean cried out cause it felt so goddamn incredible.

He slammed back against Cas’ hips, relishing the slaps that paraded through his ear drums. Cas was truly falling apart behind him, groaning and grunting and praising Dean with words of love and rapture, some in english, some in enochian. Cas’ hands roamed over Dean’s body, possessive and desperate.

Dean was forced to arch his back when Cas yanked on his hair, the short strands trapped in Cas’ tight fist.  “Yeah, fuck, that’s it … God, Cas … ahhh, fuck ... _mmng_ , ah-hh-hha,” Dean bit his lip and succumbed to being fucked senseless.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas growled his name, unlocked his fingers from the grasp on Dean’s hair, and stroked down his back. Stopping at the small of his back, Cas pushed down, flattening him to the bed.

For a short few seconds, Cas held him down and snapped powerful hips against Dean like they were on a hinge. And then Cas sighed hoarsely and fell on top of him, knocking the wind out of him, both of their combined weight sinking into the mattress.

Needing to give Cas more room, Dean hiked his knee up over the blanket, bunching the fabric even more than it already was, moving his other leg over to the left.

“Mmm, keep going,” Dean grumbled, barely able to move.

Cas grabbed at him, getting purchase to dig in hard, slotting his erection into Dean as deep as he could. Both of them swore and moaned, rubbing against each other.  

Bracing himself to be pounded into the mattress, Dean gasped in surprise when Cas slowly retreated his hips, sliding his lubed, stiff sex out to the rim and working in and out with shallow thrusts. “Cas,” he complained, wishing he could fuck himself back on Cas’ dick so frigging bad. “Caasss..” he begged.

Dean’s nerves spiked with sensation, his body on edge and wanting more, holding his breath as he waited for Cas slam into him. But Cas ignored him, stretched him slow … agonizingly slow. It was too much, Dean realized, he could feel too much. Could feel the way Cas’ hard length occasionally flexed in him, could feel Cas’ significant weight crowding him, the way his breath panted hot over Dean’s neck.

Too damn good. More than he could handle.  

“Ah, _come on_!” he pleaded, wiggling his hips like some kind of whore, clenching around the head of Cas’ dick. Dean felt the streaks of wetness tracing a path from the corner of his eyes towards the bed. With Cas sprawled on Dean’s back, the angel’s lips hovered over Dean’s neck, hot breath rushing against Dean’s skin. Goosebumps sprung up everywhere and he shook, his lip trembling, “Oh god, Cas… please, oh fuck please… please.”

“Sorry, can’t,” Cas rasped out, a thick groan following after. “ _Uhhn_ … too close,” Cas explained, his voice low and tight. With a long sigh, Cas sank into him inch by inch and Dean didn’t move a muscle. He felt Cas’ hot erection jerking in spasms, but the angel wasn’t coming yet.

Everything had stilled, quiet compared to before and Dean felt splayed open, all his fears lined up like targets. “Cas,” he said quietly, growing unsure. Not quite regretting his twelve-step Cheesemas plan, but suddenly overloaded by all the reasons he hadn’t done this sooner.

Dean was a fucking goner for Cas. And being with him like this? It was so euphoric, so perfect, that a peculiar fear paralyzed him. If Cas ever died…

“Ssh, relax. Everything’s fine,” Cas whispered to him, kissing his cheek and starting to move slow and steady.

Pinned to the mattress, Dean lost the remnants of his dignity with every fill. He ignored the fear, decided not to let it ruin this and took Cas’ hands and wrapped those strong arms around his chest and brought them both to his mouth. Dean kissed the skin, breathing in the subtle scent of KY, and focused his attention on the heavy feel of Cas’ body draped over him, the thick stretch of the angel’s cock, and the rough friction of the bunched blanket underneath, dragging and rubbing at his own sex.  

Cas moved cautiously, pausing every few seconds to breathe in hisses between his teeth. “Do you…” Cas groaned and slid in to the hilt. “Do you want me to come inside you? Or—”

“Yes,” Dean blasted, rocking back against Cas’ hips as much as he could, biting Cas’ hand below him. “Fuck yes… oh god, come, Cas… _come_.”

Castiel didn’t pull back, but drove deeper, crushing Dean into the bed and let out a rough groan abrasively against Dean’s ear, “ _Uhhnng_ , _Deaannn_ …” In the same breath, Cas shuddered, and the cock stretched tight into Dean’s ass started to pulse and flex, emptying hot pumps of seed into him. For damn sure, Dean had never felt _that._

“Fuck!” Dean shouted, his eyes slamming shut.

Everything flashed white and then black, his abs clenched hard, hips rutting into the bedspread and the first rush of release careened through him. Dean groaned and struggled under Cas’ heft to hump against the mattress, crying out, working his release as best he could, dragging his cock shamelessly into his own mess.

Tremors ran through him, his fingers ached from being locked between Cas’, the grip stiff and hard. “Cas,” he rasped out, his throat dry.

The angel in question started to kiss his neck, lazily rocking into him, murmuring “I love you,” in reverent aimless declarations.

Dean tried to catch his breath. “Love you too,” he murmured low, noting a resurgence of dumbass tears. God, he was a fucking mess. Since Dean was still holding Cas’ hands and didn’t want to let go, he used the back of Cas’ hand to wipe away his own tears.

“Geez, look what ya did,” he accused shakily. “Made a mess of me.”

Cas chuckled and kissed below his ear. “And I’m not done yet.”

“What?” he asked. Man, he’d been looking forward to relaxing in the hot sweaty embrace of Cas’ arms.

But that apparently wasn’t happening just yet.  

Moving quickly, Cas pulled out and scooted towards the end of the bed, plied Dean’s cheeks apart and buried his face. Dean hollered out a curse, his back arching, chest rising off the mattress, his face screwed up with a strange mixture of _holy shit_ and _oh my fucking god._

A full-bodied shudder took him over as Cas licked and dipped his tongue into Dean’s oversensitive ass. There was something really fucking hot about the slickness and messy feeling between his cheeks, the burning scrape of Cas’ jaw and cheeks against his skin. Dean wanted to scream or bite something.

A few laps later, his mumbles and moans and curses reduced to gibberish. “Mm, yeah, so good, holy fucking crap… Fuck… Cas… ohhh, fuck fuck!” Dean wanted to reach back and hold Cas’ head in place, wanted to grind back on his face which screamed seven levels of wrong but he was past caring, he was past fear, he was past it all. All he managed to think was: _tongue, wet, hot, sexy, oh fuck, yeahyeahyeah deeper, flick it… yesssss._

Two firm hands grabbed his hips and pulled Dean onto all fours. He was dizzy but he groaned and pushed back and whimpered for it to continue. Dean felt the vibrations of Cas’ excitement, the rolling deep moans that resonated against his slick entrance.

Something hot and tight gripped his cock hanging heavy between his legs and Dean dropped his head and dumbly looked down towards his crotch to find Cas’ hand fisting his full sex. Christ, had the damn thing even depleted a little after the previous orgasm? Didn’t look like it had at all. Dean’s sex was a darker shade of flush than the rest of his overheated body. The skin stretched tight and shiny, his balls pulled up … heavy despite the come that dampened the blanket beneath him. A future white stain he’d have to wash out.

He’d been sure he couldn’t come again. Absolutely fucking positive. But Cas pierced him with a skilled tongue, lapped at him, bit his beard-burned asscheeks and worked his hard cock in a steady building rhythm.

And the pleasure rose higher, his muscles tightened beyond comprehension. Cas flicked at his rim, groaning hot breath against his ass. On the next squeeze of his cock, Dean was fucking done...

“ _Ahh!_ _Fffu—ckin’ christ_!” Dean yelled, as the first clutches of a sort of third orgasm claimed him from head to toe, like some kind of freakish full-bodied muscle spasm. Oh god, it ached in flashes, his cock steadily oozing come like it was exhausted and couldn’t do much more than leak.

It was more than common to be oversensitive after an orgasm, but the second he was done, Dean had to scramble away from Cas’ touch and laid out his shaking body over the mattress, his chest to the ceiling, his sated cock now limp against his pelvis. “Holy fucking hell, Cas…”

The angel crawled close to him and laid by his side. “Are you okay?”

Dean moaned a weird laugh, his eyes flashing up and down. “Uhh, yeah. I don’t know.” Dean chuckled and a shiver rippled over his skin. “Ughh … jesus I feel twitchy.”

Testing Dean, Cas trailed his fingers lightly over Dean’s side. Dean flinched and curled up. “Oh my god, I don’t think I can handle touch right now. Sorry sweetheart, you broke me. ”

It was a good ten minutes before he stopped shaking, another five before he let Cas cuddle up to him. Once Cas was wrapped around him, hands caressing his tacky skin and fingers running through his sweat-damp hair, Dean was humming happily.

He’d never felt better. He was relieved, and calm and so incredibly warm.

“Love you so much Cas,” Dean mumbled, starting to drift off, shuffling further into Cas’ embrace, despite there being no additional room to do so. They were already as close as they could get.

“I love you too, Dean.” Cas kissed his cheek and then his lazy unpuckered mouth. “Kiss me back,” demanded Cas petulantly.

Sighing, Dean pursed his lips and felt the squish of Cas’ thick-lipped kiss warm him up.

“What happens now?” Cas wondered, only a slight uncertainty tainting his tone.

Dean murmured low, barely moving his lips, “More of this… Just, uh, don’t leave me, Cas, k? Don’t leave...”

Even with his eyes shut, Dean knew Cas had frowned. “I would never leave you.”

Pain pinged his heart and Dean said, “No. Not willingly…”

“Not if I can help it,” Cas responded, curling around Dean tighter and scraping his nails over Dean’s scalp, calming his fears with a distracting touch.

Sleep came for Dean hard and fast, their conversation fell away and dreams took over.  Dreams of mixed CD’s, of hazy change rooms, and endless touches.

And best of all, dreams of the future. A future that included Cas being very much in his bed every damn night.

…

Dean woke, knowing that Christmas had come and gone. All those built up twelve days of planning over with. Real life and a relationship settled in.

He was excited, without question. But the fear from the night before sat there like deadweight buried in the depths of his heart. Maybe it would always be there, he wondered. Fuck, maybe this wasn’t a feeling reserved for Dean Winchester and his craptacular life. What if everyone that experienced a love like this harboured that same crippling fear of the unknown.

All a part of letting yourself be open to disaster, he supposed. Feeling Cas’ warm naked body next to him, Dean decided that Cas was worth his own pain, should it ever come to pass. Being with Cas now was more important than a future calamity.

With Cheesemas over, this was Dean’s new reality. Cas was _his_ now and he better not fuck that up.

“Are you awake?” asked Cas, his stubbly chin above Dean on the pillow.

Dean nodded and cuddled into him. Some light groping started up pretty damn quick and Dean began to give off these little pathetic moans of pleasure, his mind considering the various things they could do. Every option was on the table now.

“What do you want to do for New Year's?” Dean  asked. A few choice options came to mind.

With a steady voice, Cas replied, “Well ... I saw something on the internet I’d like to try.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot upward, he tipped his head back and met Cas’ inquisitive stare. “You know that’s the kind of statement that’ll make a guy nervous, right? I’m afraid to ask but … what are you thinkin’?”

Pushing Dean onto his back, Cas settled over him and smiled mischievously. “To start…” he said, inching towards Dean’s ear to continue explaining, _in exquisite detail_ , exactly all the naughty things he wanted to do with Dean, _to Dean.._.

“Goddamn, Cas…” he exclaimed when Castiel casually described the concept of submission as if Dean didn’t already know everything the sex world had to offer. For whatever reason, listening to Cas was more of a turn on than watching half the shit.

As the pornagraphic diluge of ideas were exhaled in hot breaths against his ear, Dean couldn’t help canting his hips up, rubbing his erection at whatever he could.

Fuck, it certainly looked like Dean was going to have a _very_ kinky New Year’s Eve. Maybe they’d do a spank countdown… _mmngh_.  

“I think that can be arranged,” Cas purred against him.

Before he knew it, Cas was straddling him and looking down significantly. “So, Dean … is it my turn now?”

Swallowing hard, Dean grabbed onto Cas’ naked thighs. “Fuck… _Definitely._ ”

…

**_Merry Cheesemas to all! And to all a fucking good night!_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I love you guys so much and hope you enjoyed the sweet love-making. XOXOXOX Would love a comment to know what you thought of the whole story (disregarding the sucky break in the flow of it).


	15. New Year's Kink Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas makes good on his promise to give Dean some kinky New Year's Eve fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the New Year's Kink Special -- if kinks are not your thing then just pretend this story ended last chapter. For everyone else... enjoy ;)
> 
> The gorgeous, delicious art shown in this chapter was drawn by the fabulous [Ryokogirle](http://ryokogirle.tumblr.com/tagged/myart)
> 
> **Kink Tags noted here** : Restraints, orgasm denial, teasing, women's underwear, butt plugs, rimming, fingering, cock ring, come!play, breath play, sort of public teasing, wing!kink, sub!dean, top!cas, praise, voyeurism, Cas bottoming from the top, Dean being ridden and not allowed to touch. Discussion of kinks. Hopefully I didn't miss anything. If I did, please let me know. Or any errors, just leave a comment.

“You look nervous,” Cas observed, his eyes intensely set on Dean across the table.

Dean shifted in his chair. “Am not. Shut up.”

Smiling wide, Cas shook his head. “Mm-hmm. Lying to me already.”

Jesus Christ. Dean swallowed and started to wonder when the other shoe would drop. It was New Year's Eve, and Cas had made some serious insinuations about what today would entail, but he never exactly informed Dean about when all this so-called kinky stuff would go down. 

The wait was making him itch with anticipation.

When he’d first woken up, he’d gone all tense, wondering if Cas would go to town on him right away. But nope, just some soft kisses, high-school reminiscent groping, and nothing more than that.  Dean had gotten out of bed, walked to the dresser slowly, intermittently sending suspicious looks over his shoulder at Cas. Every step he’d taken, he wondered if Cas would attack out of nowhere with a wicked smile and do whatever he wanted. God, the possibilities were endless.

But nada. Cas had grinned back, false innocence in those enticing blue eyes, and said nothing. On their way into the hall he got a light smack on the ass before veering off towards the bathroom to take care of business. Showered and ready for anything, Dean had entered the kitchen and gone about making eggs.

By the time he was sitting down, Cas was staring at him with interest. Yeesh, asking if he was nervous, trying to call him out on it. No way was he giving in to that one.

Continuing to chow down, Dean fell into a blessed numb state. He barely noticed when Sam entered the kitchen, muttering something about Jody and Donna coming back to spend New Year’s with them. “Uh-huh,” Dean mumbled back, forking eggs into his mouth.

Maybe Sam’s presence had lowered his expectations, not thinking for a second that Cas would choose that moment to kick off the day of seductive torture he’d remember forever as being the best and worst teasing ever to occur in the history of the world. And no, he was not exaggerating.

He bit down on a piece of bacon, moaning at the juicy explosion of grease across his tongue when a touch brushed the inside of his thigh.

“Whoa!” Dean forced down the bite of bacon and glared across the table, saying nothing more of a giveaway.

Fucking Cas… the bastard smirked and slid his socked foot further up Dean’s thigh, toes getting precariously close to his nuts.

“Something wrong?” asked Sam, thankfully distracted by his own breakfast preparations at the far counter.

“Uh-gh,” Dean stuttered. “Nope,” he cleared his throat. “S’all good.”

Not good. So not good, Cas’ damn toes were now nudging at his balls and sliding up over his gradually stiffening cock. Mother of hell, why had he put comfortable pants on? Jeans, asshole, he thought to himself, _jeans_ would’ve been a lot better at hiding erections.

Annoyed at the prospect of sitting at the table long past the end of his meal, Dean scowled across the table.

Cas asked, “Enjoying your breakfast?”

As he tried to answer, the friction increased and he made a go at closing his legs but was served a pretty sharp look so he stopped. “It’s … ... alright.”

“You still have half a plate left.”

Glancing down at the table, there was an uneaten egg, three slices of bacon and a piece of buttered toast just waiting for him. Dean smiled in lopsided determination and picked up his fork again.

As he opened his mouth for a bite of egg, Cas rubbed his damn toes in a circle all over his junk and Dean couldn’t help the, “Fuckin’ hell,” that popped out of his mouth. The egg fall off his fork and splatted on the table.

“What” Sam butted in, looking at them from the other side of the kitchen.

Oh god, Dean saw him walking over. With his damn fruit bowl and some nasty looking shake. Why couldn’t his damn brother cook something lengthy for breakfast, like a fucking casserole and let him be taunted in peace.

“Nothing,” Dean squeaked out, trying not to feel Cas curling his damn toes up and down the length of his dick.

Pausing before he sat down, Sam glanced back and forth between the two of them before frowning in sudden distaste. “Seriously? _At the table?_ ”

Cas pulled his attention away from Dean to look up innocently at Sam. “We’re not doing anything.”

Dean’s brother snorted inelegantly. “Yeah, sure you’re not. I don’t even want to know. I’m going to eat in my room. And for the love of God, clean up whatever messes you guys make!” WIth that, Sam was breezing out of the room in a rush to get away from them and their antics.

Alone, Dean folded over the table and let Cas’ continued assault wash over him. It felt nowhere near good enough to get him off, but enough to have him squirming in the chair, spreading his legs wider and shifting towards the edge of the seat to get better friction.

“You’re very rapacious,” Cas noted.

Dean hummed in response. Why bother denying it? He’d been waiting on today since forever. Or like, four days ago… but who was counting.

“Got nothing to say?”

Lifting his head from the table, knowing his cheeks were red, Dean simply said, “Hey, you’re one to talk.”

Tipping his chin up, Cas slid his foot off and said, “You think so?”

Man, was he serious? Dean almost laughed. Not even three days ago, Dean had woken up to find Cas on all fours fingering himself. When he caught Dean staring, he smirked and bit his lip. “ _I couldn’t sleep,”_ he’d said and asked Dean to give him a hand. Needless to say, Dean had given him something a little lower on his anatomy than his hand.

“Oh I know so,” Dean cheekily replied.

Cas smiled and got up from the table, gesturing to Dean’s unfinished plate. “You might want to eat the rest of that, it’s going to be a long day and you’ll probably need the energy.”

Screwing up his face, Dean mocked the suggestion. Even though Cas had already left the room, he couldn’t help muttering to himself, “ _Better eat your food Dean, bla bla, energy, bla.”_ Grimacing at his bacon, he shoved it into his mouth and chewed with derision.

After his plate was clean and his erection sadly gone, he headed out to the main room to find Cas sitting in front of a fan of open books on the large table.

“Research mode?”

Cas didn’t look up to answer. “Yes, I see that you’ve found some more information on the Darkness.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, but it’s flowery horseshit with nothing concrete that we can use.”

“But you’ve tabbed the section that discusses opposing forces?”

Nodding, Dean took the seat beside Cas and explained. “Well, I think you might’ve been on to something.”

“When?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean replied, “When you were taunting me with your ass two weeks ago. Grinding on me and yammering about filling me up with  your ‘light’? Ringing any bells?”

A slight blush coloured Cas’ cheeks. “Yes, that was fun.”

Dean snorted a laugh. “Anyway… I kinda don’t think you were totally off the mark on that one. I mean, think about it… her and I do have a connection, she’s the vague representation of ‘darkness’, and you are sort of Holy and radiating light and all that crap.”

“...And all that crap?”

Blathering nonsense, Dean shot back, “Yeah, like wings and halos and yadda yadda, you get it.”

Cas directed his attention back to the book at hand, seeming to sober up on the topic. “It’s only a very abstract idea, Dean. There may be nothing to it.”

“Well, hey, it’s somethin’ and that’s about all we got right now.”

Sam strode into the room and asked, “What’s all we got right now?”

Sitting straight, Dean turned to his brother, “Shitty ideas on how to take out the Darkness.”

“Ah, what’s the idea?” asked Sam.

Dean and Cas shared a look before Dean decided to try and explain it without making it sound sexual somehow. How the idea had cropped up most definitely influenced his whole view of it. “Riiight. Well, Amara is basically Darkness, right?”

Sam’s brows ascended in a leading non-verbal question.

“Okay, so, she’s dark, she’s connected to me in some unholier than thou way, and then there’s Cas, or angels in general, that are like beacons of blinding light… Following?”

“Kind of. I guess, what’s the punchline?”

Cas carried on where Dean left off, “Perhaps Dean could defeat her by infusing himself with the radiant light of a celestial being.”

With a brash snort, Sam asked, “Is this a sex thing?”

“No!” Dean snapped. “God, Sammy, get your thoughts out of the gutter.” Meanwhile, Dean recalled in wonderful clarity how Cas looked grinding on his lap, on Sam’s bed no less, as he accidentally spouted off a reasonable theory.

“Really? Cause it kind of sounds you’re hoping to beat her by having some seriously questionable sex with Cas.”

“Questionable?” he and Cas said together in confusion.

“Yeah, you know, something with Grace, I dunno…” Sam shrugged pathetically, facing Cas. “I’d prefer not to speculate about the weird things you do to my brother.”

“I don’t do weird things to your brother,” Cas argued. Though, Dean reasoned, at that very moment, he knew Cas was plotting very many weird things.

“Sure you don’t.” Sam said sarcastically and rounded the table. “Either way, it’s not a totally outlandish idea—minus the sex part—so we might as well read up and see what we can find.”

Dean nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Excellent plan. Let’s hit the books.”

Snagging an open book from Cas’ pile, Dean flipped the pages at random, looking for a promising chapter as he lounged comfortably, his mind momentarily averted from the ensuing shenanigans with Cas.

Forty-ish minutes later, in the midst of squinting at garbled half-latin, Dean’s thoughts veered off in a decidedly sexual direction. With his mind spinning about the idea of Cas’ ‘celestial light’ being ‘in’ him, he started to wonder about the reach and nature of Cas’ powers and how they might be used. Specifically in the area of its application to everything sex.

Like, right now, he thought—Could Cas grope him without actually getting any hands on him? A little fondle a la grace? Hmm, could he snap his fingers and send Dean convulsing through an orgasm at will?

Turning over that thought, imagining it happening, Dean had to readjust in the chair. The damn seat was suddenly harder under his ass than it was before, the air hotter, noises more pronounced.

Someone cleared their throat, Dean looked up to find Cas smirking at him. The expression was all about impending mischief. Oh no… he thought.

No, no, no. Don’t Cas _sss—_

Pleasure skyrocketed from his core outward to his limbs, forcing him to curl into himself. “Fuck,” he cursed, the single word softly spoken, but loud enough.

“Are you okay?! Dean?” Sam got up to rush over, but Dean shot his arm out, palm facing outward; the only expression of ‘Stop’ he could manage.

Cas casually lied, “I think it’s indigestion.”

It took Dean a minute to assess whether he’d been angelically dosed with ecstasy or legitimately been forced to come in his pants. Shaking his legs some, he was relieved not to feel anything dampening his boxers. Blowing out a sigh, he raised his head to find Sam staring in suspicion.

“Yeah. Breakfast not sitting well.”

Sammy seemed to buy it. “Sucks. It’s what you get for eating bacon every damn day.”

Throwing Cas a steely look, Dean spoke back to his brother through his teeth. “Yup, can’t say no to those damn indulgences…”

Five minutes passed and Dean was on edge, not sure if Cas would keep it up. And oh, it was certainly up. Very very up.

Coughing once, Dean turned to the table, planted his elbows beside the book and propped up his head as he bent over to read. Below the table, he spread his legs nice and wide.

_Bring it, Angel._

Beside him, the lowest moan breached Cas’ lips. Low enough to be inaudible across the table.

A strange sensation skirted over the skin of his balls, ghosting up towards his erection. Like breath with a little more substance than air, something he couldn’t describe if he had a dictionary of words at his disposal.

The elusive touch teased and played with him but never progressed into anything steady. Unknowingly, Dean continued to shift in the chair, chasing the feeling of it, wanting more. He didn’t hear the creaks of the wooden legs on the concrete over the sound of his own heartbeat.

Sam didn’t look up from his book. “ _God_ , Dean. Stop moving around, it’s irritating.”

Yes, he agreed. _So_ irritating. Regardless, Dean stopped moving. He sat very still, and let his mouth drop open as Cas’ no-touch touching detoured up his chest and started to pry at his nipples, pinching and flicking and…

Glancing down, Dean was relieved they weren’t any ghostly hands visible under his shirt. Though how all this was possible, he didn’t have a damn clue.

Periodically, blasts of hot energy surged in him. Dean was sure a few more rounds of it would send him off the edge. Dimly, he had to wonder if this is what animals felt like in heat. If given the chance and privacy, he would gladly grind it out on Cas’ hip to get himself off.

Wow. That was… pathetic.

As he waited for the next flow of energy to ripple through him, Dean’s breath caught in his throat when, in absolute contrast, every torturous sensation cut off like a tap, leaving him bracingly cold and fucking frustrated.

Already his balls were sore. God, it wasn’t even dinner yet!!

“Oh! Come on!” Dean yelled, banging his fist on the table. Cas laughed, not even bothering to hold it back. Sam frowned in confusion. And Dean, needing to go scream into a pillow, shot up out of the chair, very pointedly aware of the fact that his dick was saying hello to everyone, and marched out of the room.

He distantly heard Sam’s voice, “Did he have a boner?” There was apparently no response from Cas, or one he couldn’t hear.

Back in his room, Dean face-planted the bed and let out a very brief shout into the pillow. Then he humped the mattress because Cas was an asshole. He was only alone in his room for twenty minutes before he heard Jody and Donna show up.

Thank _GOD_! More buffers between him and Cas, halle- _fucking_ -lujah. Why in all of Hell had he said yes to all this?

The door opened ominously. “Enjoying things so far?” asked an unforgettable deep voice.

“No,” he said peevishly.

“Do you want me to stop teasing you?”

Yes. No. Yes. No. “Ugh… do whatever you want. I’m good.” Dean sat up and rubbed his face. “Okay, give it to me.”

Cas laughed as he came towards the bed. “Not quite yet. Get undressed.”

Pulling himself together, Dean got off the bed and took off his clothes. When he was naked, Cas guided him back into the chair that had previously been shoved into the corner. The same squat thing he’d been tied to once already. It now faced the bed.

Well... this was a bad sign, he thought.

“I won’t tie you up... _yet_ , but you’re not allowed to move,” Cas noted, placing Dean’s hands on the arms of the chair and grabbing his knees to push his legs apart. “And you are definitely not allowed to touch yourself.”

Dean groaned, but it came out more like a growl. “Dammi—”  Cas pressed a finger to his mouth.

“Did I say you could talk?” asked Cas, in what was most definitely a rhetorical question.

Digging his fingers into the fabric of the chair, Dean pressed his lips together and didn't move as he watched Cas knee up onto the bed.

Slowly, _teasingly_ , Cas peeled off his clothes. Each button popped open with implication. The sound of the zipper going down deafening in the relative stillness of the room.

 _You’re killing me,_ he thought. Not meaning to relay a prayer. But, nevertheless, Cas looked down at him in disappointment.

“Cheater.”

By the time Cas was naked and sitting up against the headboard, Dean was already clawing at the fabric beneath his nails. Yes, tonight, he might die. He should’ve gotten his affairs in order. Then again, he didn’t really have any affairs to order, did he? It wasn’t like he had 401K to do something with, whatever the hell that was anyway.

“Can I tell you something?”

Knowing better than to give into that trap, Dean nodded.

“Most of the time this feels like a dream,” Cas told him, all the while skimming his fingers over his own skin. Dean’s eyes traced the path they took, wishing he could mimic the motions somehow. “Being with you…” Cas sighed, seemingly lost for words, and settled on staring at him, his expression full of affection and awe. “I want tonight to last forever,” Cas finally said as his hand fondled his cock, moving up the shaft to circle around the head.

Dean bit his lip to stop words forming on the tip of his tongue. There were so many things he wanted to say, promises he wanted to make. Reassurances that what they had wasn’t a dream. Instead he kept his gaze fixed on Cas’ face, watching the rise of pleasure in it as he fell into a slow rhythm.

“I hope I can… continue to… _ahh_ … keep you happy,” Cas closed his eyes and gave his stiff sex a series of quick pumps, before continuing, “You’re flawed in ways that make you perfect, Dean. Afraid of failing, which makes your… bravery all the more impressive.”

Conflicted by Cas’ unexpected praise, Dean split his attention between Cas’ lips as he spoke and the cycle of his hand sliding up and down. Imprisoned by a command, Dean minutely shifted in the chair, wishing he could throw himself at the bed and kiss his man senseless.

“I know you worry…” Cas said, voice lower than before. “I know you’ve become… cynical…” Squeezing up and around the crown, Cas tossed his head back with a crack against the headboard. “Uhh, just want you to trust… yourself, be… satisfied with your life… despite its… pitfalls.”

A long exhale flowed out of Cas, and he went on, each word separated by slowly increasing pants for air, “Want you to… trust me, Dean, let me take care of you…” The momentum of his hand picked up, his legs shifting on the bed as Dean watched, glued to the show.

Dean was aware that his fingers were sore, digging at the stiff fabric to no avail. His toes curled against the concrete, and at the centre of his hips, his erect dick sat untouched and filled out. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the picture of Cas in front of him, but he felt the weight of everything between his legs, wanting to pull his knees together in an attempt to combat the strain of it all.

No more words left Cas’ mouth, he was too close now.  Dean stared, transfixed, as Cas jerked himself off, soft moans spilling from his mouth.

Not since the beginning had Cas looked at him, and Dean hated it. He wanted to see Cas’ blue eyes, knowing they’d be shadowed by lust. He wanted to scream at Cas to look at him, to show him that he hadn’t moved at all.

“Uhh… Dean,” Cas rolled his hips up and cupped his sac before returning to his cock and stroked faster, his fingers and thumb sliding over the head and working beaded precome down the length.

 _Look at me!_ Dean abruptly prayed, yelling it inside his head.

Cas dipped his chin and opened his eyes, vibrant blue landing on Dean with fierce primacy. Jesus, a look like that made Dean wonder if he had a brand on him that bore Cas’ name.

His mouth fell open, watching Cas’ face as he neared climax. Dean strained in the chair, his ass subtly grinding down on the chair.

“Mmngh, can’t wait… for later… for more…” Cas stuttered out, “Uh, fuck…”

When broken half-moans fell repeatedly from Cas’ lips, his fist pumping his cock in determination, Dean wanted to cry at the ache at his groin. He couldn’t take it…

“So good… Dean… you’re so… _uh, uhh, ohh…”_

Staring hard at him, Cas opened his mouth wide as the spasms of release took him over, his fist moving fast, come ejecting from his cock. It landed in streaks on the bed, on Cas’ heaving chest.

Dean barely held back a groan, wanting to fly out of the chair. He was leaning forward, and only because Cas hadn’t told him he couldn’t.

Dazed, Cas climbed off the bed and walked towards him, not bothering to wipe himself off. He approached Dean with a sated smile, using two fingers to swipe off some of the release dripping down his stomach.

“Open your mouth.”

Fuck. Dean was nearing the fine edge of his control. Keeping every muscle in check, he parted his lips. Cas looked down at him, watching intently as he eased two messy fingers inside, dragging the release across his tongue.

He couldn’t finish, there wasn’t nearly enough stimulation for that, but Dean felt a steady drip of precome run down the side of his cock, smearing his stomach, leaving cool, sticky patches on him.

When Cas removed his fingers, Dean almost whined.

“Relax, Dean. We still have dinner to go to.”

No! Goddammit. Dean squirmed in the chair, biting his lips to keep quiet. This was torture. No question. Fuck all the beatings he’d taken; this was worse.

Sensing his restless mind, Cas bent towards him, bringing them face to face. In a soft gesture, Cas kissed his mouth, a tongue sweeping into him and tasting damn delicious. Cas placed his hands over Dean’s, massaging up the length of his arms and then finally resting on either side of his neck.

“Okay?”

Dean nodded. Truth was, he was cracking slowly but he trusted Cas. Trusted Cas with this weird dynamic he realized he never fully understood before. He wanted to let Cas take him to some nebulous breaking point, and know that he would be cared for.

Another kiss brushed his lips, and then his cheek, grazing towards his ear. “You can talk now…” he teased, licking the inside curve of Dean’s ear and sending shivers rippling up his spine.

The first thing he said? “Jesus Christ, Cas!”

“What? Too much?”

Dean rapidly shook his head. “No, a little, but come here…” Taking Cas’ hips in his hands, Dean guided his body closer, placing Cas between his knees. “May I?” he asked politely, significantly casting his gaze over the glistening drips down Cas’ front.

“I won’t stop you…”

Smiling, Dean bent forward and kissed the ridge of Cas’ hipbone. His lips followed the trail of come, licking and sucking as he went, cleaning Cas’ skin.  He felt fingers threading into his hair, guiding him. When there was nothing left, he rose up from chair slowly, inching higher and higher. He took Cas’ nipple in between his teeth and gave it a little tug, enjoying the short hiss it elicited.

Finally reaching Cas’ mouth, standing a little taller, Dean pressed his hips into Cas. The warm heat of Cas’ skin grazing his solid dick gave him an instant surge of pleasure, a moan escaping.

“Not yet.” Cas said pointedly, stepping back and bending over to place a chaste kiss to the head of Dean’s cock as if he were apologizing to it.

A short laugh tripped past his lips, breaking the intensity of the moment. “Did you just give my dick an ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’ kiss?”

Cas smiled, “Yes. But I’m also apologizing for what’s next.”

Oh no. “Do I even want to ask?”

“Seeing as I’m not giving you a choice, it probably doesn’t matter.” Cas gleamed, absolutely loving every minute. Who was Dean to deny him that. Whatever Cas wanted, Cas would fucking get.

Framing Cas’ face with his hands, Dean stole a kiss and stepped back into the more open part of the room behind the chair. “I’m all yours.”

Cas’ eyes flicked down, widening and trying not to smile. Wondering what all the fuss was about, Dean glanced down his body and realized that he did look a bit… ridiculous. Fully naked with his persistent hard-on pointing out from his body demanding to be noticed.

Christ, he could probably hang a fucking weight from that thing. Dean chuckled, but said, “Yes, I’m massively turned on and it’s not going anywhere for the time being so just get on with it… “ Whatever _it_ was.

“Sorry… you’re just very distracting like that,” Cas commented as he moved towards his own side of the bed, and his proclaimed nightstand. It held Cas’ angel blade when it wasn’t on him and Dean had a gun on his side. Guns, blades, condoms, and lube. And that was just the top drawer. Cas had stuffed all sorts of worrisome paraphernalia in the bottom drawers.

Even now, Cas was sifting through the contents mumbling about the expediency of Amazon, “...next day delivery, Dean. It’s shocking how the world’s developed. We only had intercourse a few days ago, _and_ it’s the holidays, and I have several things that I ordered and received between then and now. Amazing.”

Standing quietly, listening to Cas drone on about how awesome Amazon was, he couldn't stop thinking of all the possible ‘recently received items’ Cas might spring on him. One thing was for sure, he was _not_ going out to dinner with anything in his ass. That was just not happening. He’d be red-lighting that one.

“Okay,” Cas said excitedly, obviously finding what he was looking for. “Close your eyes.”

Oh super. Dean obeyed and held out his hands without being asked. Please don’t be a buttplug, he thought. Something pleasantly soft was pressed into his palms, and before he opened his eyes, Cas said, “I’ve been thinking about you in these since I saw them.”

Licking his lips, Dean opened his eyes and looked down at the neatly folded garment in his hands.

Purple. Lacy. And—Dean held it out—a thong. A purple, see-through, lacy thong. Holy mother of sex, he was gonna look like a whore. “It’s, um, pretty.” Pretty damn skimpy. The last time he’d worn women’s underwear, he was smaller and they covered a little better. These wouldn’t be covering dick.

Literally.

Cas was nearly bouncing with excitement. “The dichotomy of all of you… wearing that… I will have a very difficult time not touching you inappropriately at dinner.” 

Decision made. Dean was gonna be wearing a purple thong in public. Under his jeans, of course, but still.

“Man you better give me the best orgasm later, all I’m saying,” mumbled Dean as he stretched the purple (actually really sexy) panties and put them on. He was still hard and one-third of his cock just poked out the top stubbornly. He tried to stretch the fabric over it but the lace wasn’t having that and he didn’t want to rip a hole in it.

“Think about something unappealing,” Cas instructed, not even bothering to hide his damn smirk. “Like, for instance, the fact that you will not be orgasming before midnight.”

“Excuse me?” Dean deadpanned. Not exactly pulling off the disgruntled look when he was naked save for a purple thong.

Cas smiled, utterly pleased with himself. “You heard me, Dean.”

Knowing any arguments would go nowhere, Dean pouted. “So not fair,” he snapped. Walking towards the closet (feeling the fabric shift between his asscheeks) Dean sifted for a clean pair of jeans and a nice shirt. “You just wait till I get you back. I’m gonna have you strapped to the bed and have my way with you.”

A laugh rose from behind him, “I look forward to it.” As Dean bent over to get into jeans, he heard a sigh, and then, “I hate that humans require clothing in public settings.”

Dean shook his head. “Man, you’d totally get off on parading me around some fringe sex club, wouldn’t you?”

He heard Cas hum, thinking it over. “That depends. The idea of you being naked in public has its appeal, but I’m worried that someone would _really_ look at you, and I’d have to kill them of course.”

Dean barked a laugh. “Holy jealous much. Geez, Cas… never would’ve thought you had it in you.”

‘Why do you think I disliked Anna so much,” stated Cas, not looking for an answer.

Wearing only jeans, Dean stood straight and thought over what had been said. Cas had been jealous of Anna… but that was… Fuck, that was _way_ back in the day.  Dean abandoned his search for a shirt momentarily and crossed the room to where Cas stood over by the dresser.

He met Cas’ eyes. “You were jealous?”

Cas shrugged, “To be fair, I wasn’t familiar enough with human emotions to identify it as such, but I do know that when she kissed you I wanted to punch her in the face.”

Trying not to smile, Dean pressed his lips together and just stared at Cas. God, he was constantly amazed by this incredible man (angel-whatever) that had careened into his life like a lightning bolt. The topic of jealousy reminded him of Cas throwing Meg against the wall and trading some tongue action.

“While we’re on the topic, I did _not_ care for you kissing Meg. And I really didn’t like you giving it up to a reaper. But that was partly because she killed you…”

Cas frowned. “That was unpleasant.”

“So, I’m better, right?”

“I was referring to being killed, not the sex,” Cas corrected.

“Okay, but… about the sex? I’m the best, right?”

“I have very little comparison, Dean. To answer that would require sleeping with the entire human population.”

“Oh come on Captain Literal, just say I’m the best,” Dean pestered.

Cas tipped his head, giving Dean a look. “Yes, you’re the best. Your skills are unmatched in the art of sexual prowess.”

Dean licked his lips and leaned back, exuding pride. “Damn right they are. And let’s face it, my Cheesemas seduction was fucking awesome.”

“Go get dressed, Dean.”

Raising his eyebrows, Dean once-over’d Cas and his glaring nakedness. “Hey, I’m the most dressed out of the two of us.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Cas replied, brushing past him and sneaking out a hand as he casually fondled Dean through his jeans.

Mmngh, if Cas was gonna be passively feeling him up throughout the night, he was toast! Dinner was going to be a serious exercise in orgasm control. Not to mention polishing up on his poker face capabilities.

In ten minutes, they were suitable for the public eye and left their room to find the rest of the bunker’s occupants.

They found everyone in the kitchen, having a beer and listening to Jody rant about looking after teenagers. Sam was watching her with googly eyes that made Dean simultaneously happy and grossed out.

Dean felt bad for his baby bro though. Jody wasn’t gonna be leaving those girls any time soon. And sure, she’d come visit and Sam would too, but maybe there was a good reason why they were keeping things on the down low. Man, it made Dean appreciate how easy he and Cas had it.

‘Course it took them about five thousand years to get where they were. Nothing was perfect.

With everyone rounded up, Dean drove them all to a bar where they could get grub and have some drinks before finishing off the night at home. Fuck… Dean’s thoughts caught on the word. _Home_.

It still shocked him to label it that way. Humble abode, made of concrete and magic. There were worse places to live, he reasoned.

Crammed into a booth; Sam and Dean on one side, the two women and Cas on the other, they got settled and placed orders for appetizers and mains and drinks. It was gonna be awesome. He was happy.

In the back of his mind, the problem of Amara needled away. But he was hellbent on ignoring it until he had a solution. And in the time between books and dead-ends, he was going to attempt to enjoy life. What a fucking concept.

“Dean—” Sam was staring at him.

“Huh? What?” Everyone at the table was focused on him, so he repeated himself a bit brasher. “ _What?!”_

“You were doing that odd creepy smiling for no reason thing again,” said Sam.

“Can’t a man be happy!” Dean retorted, picking his beer off the coaster and taking a long pull from it.

“Of course, Dean. Sorry, we’re just not used to it. You normally have, like, this perpetual pout-ish scowl on your face.” noted Sam, shrugging.

Under his breath, Dean commented, “Not the only one a little perkier these days.”

The music drowned him out, but he saw Cas grin across the table.

As the night wore on, they ate and laughed and drank. Dean was debating the idea of letting Cas drive home—the only one sober enough to do it, but he was still on the fence. There was still some time to kill before they’d all be good to go and Dean decided it was time to have a good ol’ big brother chat with the woman getting into Sammy’s pants.

“Jody. Fancy a game of darts?”

She raised her chin and met his challenging stare. “You’re on, Winchester.”

Everyone shuffled out of the booth to let them out and they crossed the bar to the open section with the dart board, each picking out their respective group of darts.

Dean got into position first. “First to bullseye?” Jody nodded and Dean aimed for the pie section indicated by a ‘1’. He made it to four before the dart took a dive and hit the 9.

As Jody stepped up to the line of duct tape on the floor, he crossed his arms and faced her profile. “So what are your intentions with my brother.”

Poised to throw, Jody cursed and whipped sideways to face him (still holding up the dart). “What are you implying?”

Dean scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. My damn boyfriend’s an angel with superpowers and he told me all about you and Sam and your boinkfest going on. Man, I love you Jody, you know I do,” he said more soberly, “but I wanna know what this is.”

She lowered the dart and squared her shoulders. “When Sam came to visit a few weeks ago, we had some drinks… and some stuff happened. Neither of us know what it is, Dean, so don’t go making a big deal out of it. It’s why we didn’t say anything.”

Turning away, she faced the board and tossed the dart with experience. It landed in the red on the first marker.

“You care about him?”

She faced him with affection. “I care about both of you.”

“Jody.”

“Yes, I care about him. And don’t look at me like that.”

Dean scrunched his face. “I’m not looking at you any way, I’m just standing here.”

“Uh-huh. One comment about me being older than Sam and I’m gonna smack you, don’t think I won’t, Winchester.”

Throwing his hands up in surrender, Dean said, “No comments. None at all. And hey, Cas is like a billion years old so I can’t say shit.” Jody made it six before she botched a throw and it was back to his turn. They were both too good for this game but it passed the time.

Getting seven in a row his next turn, Dean was smirking and sauntering his way up to the board to retrieve his darts, not thinking about the games he and Cas had been getting up to. Not thinking at all…

So he was startled when Jody let out a gasp behind him, followed by an uncharacteristic giggle.

Dean spun around, “What?”

She tried to school her face back in order but the mirth was there. “Nothing.”

Oh no, he realized. When he’d gone to grab the last dart, he’d had to reach up for it lodged in the cork above the board. His shirt had risen up… he remembered feeling the draft.

Oh shit.

“You saw nothing!” Dean pointed at her, eyes wide.

Based on the way she was biting her lips not to burst into laughter, Dean knew damn well she saw the damn thong he was rocking.

When she was lining up to throw her set, she muttered, “ _Pretty_ ,” very low under her breath and Dean bristled beside her but owned up to nothing.

They made it back to the bunker just shy of nine o’clock and Dean reluctantly allowed Cas to drive. But only because a half hour before they left, he got trapped in the bathroom and pressed up against the locked door as Cas opened up his jeans and mouthed at his lace-covered dick for ten minutes straight. It took him another five minutes of thinking about shapeshifters slimy sheddings before he could leave the bathroom without being kicked out of the bar.

After four sessions of being teased in the span of a few hours, Dean was too on edge to drive. Especially considering he was slightly tipsy.

Actually, as Dean looked around at everyone, making their way down the stairs of the bunker; the high chatter, the smiles, he’d bet they were all feelin’ pretty good. Jody and Donna were arguing about somethin’ or other. Sam was staring at Jody again, his eyes lit up with adoration.

Oh man, Dean thought, Sammy was fallen for Jody _freaking_ Mills. Things were looking up for the Winchesters. Poor Donna, though. The fifth wheel, and Dean caught her eye a few times throughout the night, and boy did she know it. Her secret smile to him was obvious as all hell. Only Donna would wind up as a fifth wheel and be pleased as punch about it.

Not even five minutes after they got home, Cas guided Dean down the hall with a hand pressed to the arch of his back. Coming up to their shared room, Dean was stumped once more by the fact that he was cohabitating with the angel. And what he’d gathered so far was that Cas was a bit of a slob, loved to cuddle, maintained he didn’t _need_ to sleep but when he did he was a damn blanket hog. It said a lot for how much Dean loved him that none of that crap bothered him yet.

The honeymoon period would wear off soon enough and then the bickering and makeup sex would arrive and he’d have something else to look forward to.

It was kind of insane that he actually couldn’t wait for his first argument with Cas. He could envision the pent up anger, sharp words and posturing. Chests heaving as they fought over something domestically mundane, or maybe something far more serious given the whole Amara thing, but nevertheless, Dean knew how any argument would end. In a jumble of angered movements and pissed off kisses. Clothes being yanked off, touches less loving and more… brutal. Dean was seriously excited. There was probably a lot wrong with that, but he didn’t bother to worry about it.

In _their_ room, Dean found himself tied to the bed in very short order. The night was starting for real this time and that made him nervous.

How long could he hold out for?

Still sporting the purple thong, Dean felt a thrill run through him as he pictured how he must look. And Cas, staring at him with hungry eyes, made him feel exactly like the blatantly offered sex that he was.

Cas crawled up over him, framing his body with his arms and legs and stared down at him. “I love you.”

Damn Cas was intense sometimes. When the guy said ‘I love you’ it was thick with the emotion, sending Dean a little off kilter. He swallowed over the tightness in his throat and said it back, “I love you too, Cas.”

Before anything else, Cas eased down on him and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, plying his lips apart and dipping his tongue in for a taste. Dean tried to roll his hips up, wanting to make contact, but the ties around his ankles had no slack. A soft whine passed into Cas’ mouth and the angel pulled back.

“I love that sound.”

Dean watched, barely a sound coming out of him, as Cas bent to his chest and flicked at Dean’s nipple with the tip of his tongue. He squirmed as much as he could, his skin lighting up with sensation that followed the path of Cas’ mouth and teeth.

God, it felt good. Every alternating touch; the wet laps of Cas’ tongue that left cooling trails of spit, sharp nips of Cas’ teeth that pinched his skin and turned it pink, and the gentle press of his mouth when all he did was kiss. Dean thoroughly loved the way Cas sucked and bit at the sensitive places on the inside of his thighs, right where his leg hair thinned out to nothing.

Time seemed to slow, and the more Cas touched him, the more restless Dean became. Cas dragged his palms from Dean’s neck down his chest, over his abdomen, and then circled his hips and ended with a brief massage of his thighs. His erection jumped in revolt, pissed off with the lack of attention.

“Cas…” Dean breathed, licking his lips and annoyed with how dry his mouth was already.

Pausing as he pinched Dean’s nipple with his teeth, Cas looked up through his lashes at the sound of his name. The stare lingered, the intensity rose as Dean watched Cas watching him, feeling the acute sensation of Cas’ wet mouth focused solely on the hardened nub.

It got to be too much and he pulled on the restraints, throwing Cas a desperate look but trying hard to keep his mouth shut. “Please,” somehow made it out, the word barely more than air.

Moving away, Cas kissed a line towards the centre of Dean’s chest and then up to his neck where he ducked into the curve and started to suck the skin in sharp pulls. Feeling the blood rush to that single point, and the ticklish scrape of Cas’ subtle beard nearly threw Dean over the edge.

He yanked at the restraints, “Fuuuuck. Cas… oh god, keep doing that, keep doing that…” he mumbled, twisting his head on his shoulders to brush his cheek into Cas’ hair. Dean loved the way Cas smelled, loved how he treated every inch of Dean’s body.

Cas spent a while sucking and kissing either side of his neck, occasionally detouring up to kiss his mouth. Dean moaned against lips, breathing hard and wanting to wrap his arms and legs around Cas and hating that he couldn’t.

“You’re stunning,” Cas whispered against his ear, nuzzling into his hair and kissing him softly. Dean wanted to scream under the attention. There was no way out of it, no way to rise up and throw Cas onto his back and show him the same degree of love.

Instead he turned to face Cas and met his eyes. Knowing what he needed, Cas kissed Dean on the mouth, opening him up for a deeper kiss. Dean had his way for a brief moment, sliding his tongue in between Cas’ lips and tasting the warmth of him.

But it didn’t last. Fuck, with the way things were going, Dean wasn’t gonna be lasting very long. Sure, he’d try… but even now with their lips sealed together and tongues rubbing together, Dean’s erection was kicking intermittently, surges of pleasure rushing through his shaft.

Untouched the way he was, he could come if he wanted. It was bad enough, that if he concentrated, it would happen.

Pulling back from his face, Cas said, “I see we’re going to have to remedy that.”

Dean stared up in a daze, searching Cas’ blue eyes for a meaning behind that. Arousal had a way of numbing the synapses and making one stupid. “Huh?”

“Just stay right there,” teased Cas.

Rolling his eyes, Dean murmured, “Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious.”

Again, Dean heard his man rummaging for god knew what, wondering if he could seriously hold out until midnight.

But then Cas climbed back onto the bed.

“Oh, Christ…” Dean cursed as he realized that he would hold out for as long as Cas kept _that_ on him. Looking down the expanse of his body, he watched in frustration as Cas efficiently cut off the thong and tucked all of his goodies into a hot pink cock ring. And yeah, not the best name because it wasn’t just his cock that was roped into an orgasm-deathtrap. With his balls in the same situation, any hope he had of “accidentally” coming before midnight was denied. Hot pink denial.

“I hate you,” he grumbled. _And I want a new thong!_

Cas laughed. _Laughed_ at him! One of these days, Dean thought mischievously. One. Of. These. Days. Cas would find out who’d be having the last laugh. There were angel handcuffs at his disposal and he was not opposed to using them.

Catching on to his thoughts, Cas raised his eyebrows and openly assessed Dean’s threat.

“Don’t trust me in regular restraints?”

Dean shook his head. “Hell no.”

As Cas left him alone on the bed to go and get some other tool or implement to use, Dean was relieved they’d had the awkward talk the day before. A whole list of what he’d be cool with and what he was absolutely against. It shocked him that the list of hell-no’s was relatively short.

_**… The Day Before ...** _

Whether it was the rough life Dean led, or the fact that he’d spent years in Hell, he was pretty damn desensitized to the concept of toying with someone. Knowing that, he was willing to Cas a really wide berth of options. And also because he trusted Cas, nearly any potential act was on the table.

And at that very moment, _all_ potential acts were on the table. Well, on a list on an actual table, having been printed off by Cas after googling God only knew what. Dean would rather not know. Because, seriously, every single fucking thing on the goddamn planet was written on that fucking list.

Before Cas had a chance to start, Dean raced to the kitchen for a necessary beer. Hard liquor would’ve been preferable, but Cas had put the kibosh on his alcoholic tendencies.

At first, Dean had been against the whole idea of talking about what kinky stuff they wanted to get up to. Why bother talking about it, Dean wasn’t limited by much.

Cas, stubborn and rational bastard that he was, sat down with his damn five pages of fun and propped his feet in Dean’s lap.

“Ready?”

Dean shook his head with indifference. “Have at it.”

“I think it’s alphabetical,” Cas noted, eyes squinting at the page. “The first ten items start with the word _anal.”_

Gee. Shocking. “Read the list, Cas.”

Kicking out his chin, settling in the chair more… Cas began. And yup, the first few items were everything butt. _Heh_. Beads, plugs, cocks, fingers, tongue, dildos, vibrators, something that had him shivering out of grossness and gagging.

Halfway down the ‘ass’ list, Dean jumped in, “Wait, wait, are we only talking about my ass?”

Cas smiled. “Why? Would you like my answers too?”

Hmm, now this conversation was going somewhere interesting. “Definitely.”

On and on, Cas read down the list.

“Restraints?” Cas said, mirth coming across in his tone. They both smirked, Cas with a secretive gleam in his eyes, no doubt remembering how Dean looked trapped in a chair. Blindfolds were a definite yes. Gags within reason, and only because Dean had been gagged more than he cared to remember and it wasn’t the link to unhappy memories that made him reluctant but more in knowing that when you’re gagged you sometimes drool and he would not feel sexy if he were drooling. It was astounding how many things Dean was on board for. He never would’ve thought of himself as a guy who’d want to get fucked by a dildo… but then he pictured Cas doing it and all the blood in his brain rerouted to his dick and he had to reassess his own perversions.

God, the conversation alone was getting him hard. And yet it was awkward and uncomfortable, which somehow added to the appeal. As usual, Cas and his tricky mind snooping clued in quickly to his thoughts and skipped down the list until something caught his eye, and he looked up, pinning Dean with a dark stare. “Humiliation?”

Dean said nothing, knowing Cas could read him like a book anyway. Man, he would’ve loved to pretend that he was normal sexually but the life he had, odd kinks were just par for the course. The surreal conversation continued and Cas stopped pointedly and said, “Roleplay?”

He snorted. “Oooh, I know!” he shot out sarcastically. “How about you be an angel and I’ll be a demon…” Then he threw his head back in mock disappointment, “ _Dammit_. We already did that! _Next_.”

Holding out his palm, Cas said, “Dean, don’t be dismissive.”

Not able to help it, he smirked, “How about _sub_ missive?” Looking at Cas up through his lashes, Dean sank back against the chair and bent his arms behind him, hooking his fingers together. And just to make  Cas squirm, he spread his legs a bit, making sure Cas’ propped-up feet were still balancing on his thigh.

He watched Cas bite into his lower lip before saying, “If you’re intention is to be submissive, and by that nature _agreeable_ , then I think you should submit to being open-minded about roleplay… For instance,” Cas leaned forward, “You could be my student, and I could be a very disappointed teacher. It’s a very popular pairing of roles.”

Dean couldn’t help the turn of his thoughts. He pictured himself bent over a desk with Cas behind him, pounding away. “Yeah, uh, okay... roleplay’s a go.”

In the end, he admitted he was _really_ easy, and kind of a whore for Cas apparently. But he figured why not explore with Cas in the bedroom? The rest of their lives were ten shades of fucked up, why shouldn’t life in the sheets be as well?

The final list had lots and lots of checkmarks… everything except for the disgusting stuff, and things he didn’t even know what the hell they were or simply had him making WTF faces.

Dean made his thoughts very clear about the nasty stuff by dead-panning Cas when he’d run down the damn list from the internet and read them out like anything else. Whether it was because Cas was an angel and hadn’t grown up with the context of certain things, he’d said ‘watersports’ like he were asking Dean what he wanted for breakfast, eyes looking up at Dean, like, _No? Yes? Interested?_

Dean simply stared back without expression. Cas rolled eyes and scratched it out, “I’m just going through the list Dean, no need to glare.”

Taking a sip of his beer, Dean shook his head and motioned with his other hand for Cas to go on.

**… _Present ..._**

All that was how he wound up spread-eagle on the bed not really knowing where the night would go. It was maybe quarter to ten and he was naked and raring to go.

But going nowhere.

He might die, he thought offhand. It was still around two hours until midnight. Two hours until he would get release. Not exactly a lifetime, but a long ass time to have an erection.

Cas returned to the bed this time with a red and grey striped tie in his hand and straddled Dean’s chest to cover his eyes. Part of Dean protested the blackout because it meant he couldn't see Cas, and that was depressing because Cas was gorgeous.

As the fabric settled across his eyes and Cas gently lifted his head to secure it in a knot, every other sense he had picked up the slack. The way Cas was bent over him, he could feel the heat rising from his skin, the calm breaths he took as he adjusted the blindfold for maximum darkness.

A soft kiss was placed on the apple of his cheek and he fucking blushed. He actually heard Cas smile, obviously noticing the added colour. “Perhaps I should’ve chosen a different coloured tie, this one is slowly matching the shade of your skin.”

Dean huffed. “Shut up.”

“I’d watch that tone if I were you,” Cas scolded him, a sudden pinch of his nipple making him hiss.

He felt the cool air trade places with the heat as Cas moved away from him. Dean paid attention to the dips in the mattress, wondering what was next.

When nothing immediate touched him, Dean began to count the seconds, finding the wait to be worse than anything. “What are you doing?” he asked, not able to stop himself.

“Staring at you.”

Holy shit. Dean felt a sudden rise of nerves. He couldn’t _not_ squirm. It was one thing to be looked at in the throes of sex, it was a whole ‘nother to lay there and _feel_ eyes on you.

“Cas,” he pleaded, wanting to be touched.

Dean lost his breath when he felt the small pad of Cas’ index finger draw a line from his heel up the underside of his foot and dipped in between his toes. His dick strained inside the tight ring, growing harder.

Little pinches paved the way up his body, and the earlier tease Cas had let loose on him was back in full force. But this time, he didn’t know where Cas would go next. The uncertainty had him pulling on the soft ties around his wrists.

“I know every inch of your body, Dean,” Cas said quietly, his mouth somewhere over on Dean’s right. “I know where you’re ticklish,” Cas pointedly scratched at his side, just below his armpit and his body tried to curl sideways but got nowhere. His mouth pulled up into a smile and he tried not to laugh as Cas scratched down his side lightly. “I know what turns you on,” said Cas, his voice closer than before. Hot breath ghosted over his ear before he felt Cas kiss behind it, and then down his neck—that combo of wet suction and beard burn ripping the most unmanly sounds from his throat.

“Oh fuck… friggin’ love it when you do that.”

He felt Cas smile against him. “I know.” Two soft pecks landed on his cheek before Cas said, “I want to try something very different, is that okay? It wasn’t on the list… but I’d be astonished if it was.”

Um. Okaaay. “Nothing gross?”

Cas chuckled. “Promise. Nothing gross.”

Smiling, Dean relented. “Fine. But suck at my neck a little more first.”

“You’re awfully bossy given your position.”

He didn’t bother to argue that. “Please?”

Not answering, Cas simply nuzzled up into him and latched on, kissing and sucking and chafing his skin to the point where Dean could barely handle it. His skin was covered in goosebumps and he shivered and squirmed and moaned. And fuuuck, he loved when Cas did that.

When Cas drew back, Dean remembered that his man was going to be springing something undiscussed on him.

There was a sudden crack on the air, and a flicker of light beyond the blindfold. His skin tightened, and there was a current of energy in the room he couldn’t deny. “What the fuck, Cas?”

Sounding winded, Cas replied, “Sorry… it’s not as easy anymore. And they’re not… what they were. But I just…” Dean felt a brush of something silky along the inside of arm, “I wanted to touch you,” concluded Cas.

Forcing every thought from his mind, Dean put all his focus on the feather-light touch skimming down towards his shoulder… and then tracing the natural lines of his body down to his hips. It was a subtle flap, a rush of air over his skin that had him clueing in to exactly _how_ Cas was touching him.

“Is that…” Dean was too stunned to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Cas answered him anyway.

“Holy crap, well that’s, uh, new…” And fucking awesome, he tacked on. Dean arched as much as he could, which wasn’t much, but he felt a broader section of Cas’ wing— _Cas’ fucking WING—_ spread across his torso. Oh man, he wanted the touch to go a little further south. And yeah, he should probably be sent straight back to hell for wanting an angel’s wing to grope his dick… but damn.

Everywhere the feathers grazed him, his nerves lit up with sensation. “Cas,” he whined, shifting his hips in suggestion.

There was a charge on the air, and then a gentle wind and suddenly something softer than skin was dragging up the underside of his cock. “Ah fuuck, that’s hot…” Dean pushed his hips into the barely-there caress.

There was a quiet laugh and then, “It’s so wrong how much this is turning me on,” said Cas. Dean smiled, wishing he could see it. But damn, he felt it… he felt the feathers brush over his balls and drag over the head, no doubt getting smeared with precome.

Cas’ hand suddenly joined the action, and Dean cried out at the contrasting sensations of cool and warm, silky and a little rougher. Pulling at the restraints, Dean fought the rising tension in the pit of his stomach, a coil of trapped energy.

After however long of teasing his entire body except down there, and now that Cas was _only_ focused on his rigid sex, it was too fucking much. The pleasure climbed into an itch. Dean could feel how incredibly hard he was, could feel the skin stretched over his erection.

Whenever precome beaded from the slit and started to drip over the head of his cock, he felt Cas’ finger or a soft feather pick it up and spread it down the underside. “Goddammit…” Dean bit his lip and breathed hard through his nose.

All he saw was blackness and the occasional flicker of light seep in around the edges. The more he tested the straps that secured his ankles and wrists, the more he realized Cas hadn’t skimped out on realism. Not like before, Dean wasn’t getting out of these ones. If he wanted, he’d have to bust out the verbal stop sign.

He didn’t want to. Not even a little. But _Holy Mother of Christ_ , it would feel good to get his hands on Cas.

Just as he began to realize that he was subtly grinding into the feathery-hand-sex, his dick was suddenly left cold and untouched. “No, no, come back…”

“Beautiful… but I want more of you,” Cas said. There was another charge of electricity and a whoosh and Dean knew that Cas’ wings were once more hidden to him. One day, he vowed, he would get to see those bad boys.

Cas must've heard him. “They’re…” Cas hesitated, his voice stretched. “They’re damaged, Dean. I’d rather you not see them this way.”

“Felt pretty damn good to me,” he argued.

Dean sensed Cas’ fingers by his ankle and realized he was being partially freed. “Yes, well, I was stroking your dick… I imagine that did feel rather good.”

“Smartass.”

Deftly untying the restraints, Cas grabbed his unencumbered ankles and adjusted them on the bed so his knees were up and his feet were spread wide.

“Speaking of ass,” Cas mentioned, and suddenly there were firm hands pushing up under his ass, thumbs spreading his cheeks and—

“Fuckin’ hell!” Dean yelled, feeling Cas’ tongue lap right across his entrance. It was wet and warm and… goddamn insistent. “Ohm my god, that feels… _ahhff_ fucking good…” he sighed, trying to draw his knees back.

Cas kissed him. As in actual pursed lips gently pressed to his ass and then said, “Do you want me restrain your legs… so that you’re… fully exposed to me?”

Dean’s mouth gaped. Oh hell. That was something Dean Winchester should’ve said no to. Swallowing a breath, he exhaled and said, “Okay…” At least he didn’t have to see Cas’ smirk, but he certainly felt the rush of heat to his face and knew he was probably matching the tie again.

There were more dips in the mattress and then Cas grabbed hold of his ankles and brought them together, pushing his legs so that his knees were forced towards his chest. A thick, soft strap was wrapped around both ankles and then Cas moved to each side of the bed and tied off the two ends.

And yeah, he was definitely exposed. Not to mention curled up in a way that meant there’d be no touching of his dick and he couldn’t even shift side-to-side.

This was the sort of thing about submission Dean had been craving and hoping for; the _obscenity_ of it. It gave him a thrill unlike anything else. Even though he wasn’t surprised by the actions themselves, his reaction was stronger than he would’ve ever guessed. Dean had been wrong to think his past had made him immune to this. Knowing Cas was the one in control, he was practically shaking under the probable gaze of blue eyes.

Maybe it was because he cared that he was reacting so intensely. Loving Cas made him vulnerable, made him worry about how he looked. When Cas wasn’t touching him, he wondered why.

“Ssh,” Cas whispered, kissing the back of his thigh. “I was distracted,” he elaborated. “Enjoying the view, and grabbing a couple things.”

Dean made a small sound, enough to acknowledge he heard Cas speaking to him, but felt the rise in tremors and didn’t trust his voice. Cas needed to touch him… and soon.

Palming his ass, Cas spread him open and Dean felt the return of that skilled tongue. Wet licks flicked at his rim and he whimpered, wanting more. More and more messy kissing, and Dean was starting to get legitimately pissed off. God, what time was it. He wanted more.

“Cas,” he breathed, searching for a magical sentence that would have Cas fucking him in no time. But he doubted there was anything he could say beyond, “Red.” And then, “Fuck me now.” But, Christ, he was Dean Fucking Winchester and he would _not_ cave.

“Good boy,” praised Cas, his deep voice rough and sexed up.

Oh God... Dean’s arousal shot through the roof, and it stunned him. Did he really get off from being called a ‘Good boy’? That was kind of fucked up, wasn’t it? “Jesus, there’s something wrong with me,” he muttered, finding his voice.

Throwing him into a daze, Cas pressed a finger into him; sinking into his ass until he felt the pressure of Cas’ hand right up against him. “Don’t ever think there’s something wrong with you for experiencing pleasure with me. You’re safe with me… and I don’t mean in the safe from violence aspect… though, that too,” Cas spoke as he slid his finger in and out, twisting as he went. “Free to be whoever you are and whatever that means…”

As Cas’ words filtered to his ears, he forgot why they were being said to begin with. Because yes, fucking yes, he was free with Cas. Well, not literally in that moment because he was fucking tied to the bed… but somewhere in the construct of who he was, his soul was soaring. Yeah, Cas loved him, loved him when he was evil, when he was being a jerk, and when he didn’t deserve it.

Finally, he remembered why he’d gotten upset. Dean suddenly laughed and said, “You love me when I’m good for you?”

Dean felt a kiss on the back of his thigh. “Definitely,” assured Cas, before Dean was graced with a sudden stretch as Cas worked in a second finger beside the first. Beneath the blindfold, Dean squeezed his eyes shut, focused on trying to relax. It occurred to him that things were real slippery down there and at some point Cas had lubed up his digits but he’d clearly missed that.

For the next seemingly endless span of time, Dean strained under the onslaught of fingers and lips and a salacious tongue. Only because Cas was an angel was Dean not worried about the fact that Cas was going to town on him. The weight of his cock and sac locked up in neon prison became harder to ignore the longer Cas licked and fingered him. When three fingers spread him open and started to curl downward and rub him to the point where he started to whimper from the intensity, Dean started to ramble nonsense, “Holy fuck, oh my god… Cas… fuck…” Doing his best to writhe, Dean heard the bed-frame creak and protest his efforts. The restraints were pulled taught. “Cas, stop. I can’t take it, oh god, please touch me… please, please, please…” he begged. “Uuhgh, uhh… s’too much.”

But Cas didn’t stop, because Dean hadn’t said the magic word. Not red, not yellow. But he was getting close.

After maybe another minute, Cas finally pulled his fingers out, leaving Dean shaking and panting. He felt empty and wanted to scream. “S’midnight?” he asked, barely able to make his mouth work.

“Almost.”

Man, Cas’ voice was thick and gravelly.  Dean wished he could picture Cas’ body, wondering how hard he was. Wanting to see every lean line and curve of muscle.

There was a pause in everything and Dean tried to catch his breath, calming himself for whatever came next. He dimly heard _something_ , the sound of lube being spread was his best guess.

“You’re being so good, Dean,” praised Cas, squeezing Dean’s ass and then his thigh. A gentle, momentary massage that loosened the tension a little.

Dean sighed, “I want you inside me. Now.”

“Soon,” promised Cas. “But first…”

A blunt slick object pressed against his rim, tapered in a way that gave it away. Dean’s jaw dropped as Cas pushed the plug slowly into his ass, stretching him wider until it settled. Holy crap, that felt… strangely intoxicating. To have something just stuffed in him, not moving, not pulling out—his heart rate rose fast, making him tremble worse than before.

“Cas,” he groaned, pulling all restraints at once.

“I’m going to untie you. Okay?”

Dean nodded, not even sure if Cas could see him, but figured it was enough. The binds around his ankles were loosened first and as he let his legs fall back to the bed, the plug shifted and a wave of arousal pulsed in his dick. “Oh fuck… take it off.”

Before his wrists were loosened, Dean felt Cas finger along the pink cock ring. A firm hand stroked his shaft and then gently tugged his balls. “Not yet.”

A growl shot through the room and Dean knew it was him. His feet pushed at the comforter beneath him, bunching it and moving enough that Cas was probably annoyed trying to release his arms.

Dean had planned to jump on Cas the second he was free, but he was too unraveled to be coordinated and Cas had him pinned easily. “I want you on all fours, Dean. Be good for me.”

Goddammit. He couldn’t say no to that. Resigned to move, he tried to shift under Cas’ weight but unless Cas eased up he was going nowhere. “Let me up then.”

“Just wait…” Lips grazed Dean’s and a wanton moan rumbled from his chest. “I want to see your eyes.” Cas’ hands let go of Dean’s wrists and went to his face, touching softly across his forehead and then pulling up the blindfold.

Dean was not prepared for what he saw. Hovering above him, shadows across his face, Cas was staring down at him with a wild kind of awe. Blue eyes dilated to the extreme, lips swollen. There was a sheen of sweat all over his flushed skin, and he was breathing almost as hard as Dean was.

“You know what, Cas… you’re really fucking hot.”

A carefree laugh bubbled out of Cas and he hastily kissed Dean on the mouth before smacking his thigh and demanding he, ‘ _Get into position_ ’.

Dean nearly fell over, but he figured out how the whole arms and legs thing worked again and planted himself on the bed on all fours. Looking down under himself, he saw the poor state of his cock. It was, like, _angry_ red. Hard as fucking iron, and trying to break free of the pinkest meanest sex toy ever.

Pulled away from the focus on his dick, Dean was startled by Cas grabbing the base of the plug and giving it a tug. “Jesus,” he breathed, letting his head drop between his arms.

Falling to his elbows, Dean decided not to care that he was presenting himself ass-first to an angel. So long as the angel satisfied him by the end of the night, everything would be perfect.

“Almost midnight,” Cas warned. “If I take this off,” he fingered the pink dick-cuff, “can you hold off for about twenty seconds?”

Probably not. “ _Maybe_ ,” he said honestly.

There was some kind of easy open latch because all at once the pressure at the base of his cock was abruptly gone, and Dean groaned into the bedspread, feeling a swell of release build and he strained every muscle to hold it off. Breathing hard, he lost track of time passing…

“Ready to countdown? You can touch yourself but only after after three.”

What? Dean was still struggling not to come when a blinding smack landed on his ass and he shouted, not caring one fuck about other people in the bunker. Christ, he forgot they existed. Cas called out ten firmly, and then another hit came with nine, and again with eight. Barely a breath between. Oh jesus, his eyes wouldn’t focus and the pillows looked blurry. The plug in his ass was being jostled with each mind-numbing slap.

“Five, four, three…” Slap. Slap. _SLAP!_

Dean was falling apart. Tears built in the corners of his eyes, he couldn’t think—

“Two.”

_SLAP!_

His hand flew down to his cock and he squeezed it rough as Cas called out, “One!” and spanked him fucking hard on the last one, his ass stinging. The intense rush of heat drove him over the edge and he buried his face into the nearest pillow and screamed as he came, his cock swelling in beats, unloading onto the bed. Each throb echoed elsewhere between his legs, his ass pulsing around the plug. Dean shook and groaned, tears dripping from the corners of his eyes.

Warm hands rubbed his back, and he distantly heard Cas’ voice soothing him. Only when he felt his hips being pulled did he try to claw his way back to reality.

“Relax,” Cas said in an attempt to calm him, the angel’s voice anything but. “Dean, I need you to come back.”

Searching around himself, Dean realized he was up by the top of the bed and Cas was trying to guide him back. Sort of confused, Dean looked back to see Cas holding himself, his stiff sex carrying a sheen of lube.

Ohh... _ohhh, fuck._

“Mmm… fuckin’ do me.” Dean mumbled, crawling his way back towards Cas, finding his head was heavy and loose on his shoulders.

Trying to hold himself up in the same position as before, Dean rested his forehead on his forearm below him and gasped for air as Cas started to tug the toy out of him, stretching him wide and pushing it in and out for a few seconds to apparently drive him insane before removing it completely.

Cas rubbed along his spine with one hand, as he guided himself with the other. Even relatively spent as he was, Dean’s cock gave an interested twitch when his body registered the round, hot press of Cas’ sex positioned against his hole.

“Holy fuck… ughhh,” Dean tried to impale himself, but Cas’ pulled back.

“Don’t move.”

And just like that, Dean went still. Didn’t move a fucking muscle as Cas eased into him, filling him so completely that he felt more satisfied than he ever had in his life that moment.

“Good boy,” Cas smacked his hip and withdrew, only to immediately slam into him in a bracing thrust, jarring enough that Dean opened his mouth and bit his forearm to keep from shouting in ecstasy.

Cas didn’t build into a fierce pace, he started that way. Holding Dean by the hips and spearing into him in fast succession. The slapping obscene symphony of two sweaty bodies colliding echoed around the room, and _Christ in Hell_ the fucking bunker was gonna reek of sex after this.

Moans were no longer held in check, and Dean’s whole body tingled with a building heat. Behind him, Cas grunted with each thrust, grabbing at Dean’s skin and flesh with rough hands. Hands that knew how to fight… For ridiculous reasons, he was sure, Dean loved that those could-be-violent hands were clutching his naked body as leverage for a good fucking.

Fuck, he wanted Cas to smack his ass again. Damn that’d felt awesome. No sooner had he thought of it, when a harsh slap landed on the side of his cheek, the blood rushing to the spot and making him itchy. Dean moaned, whimpered and tried to reach back to rub the spot.

“Mm-hmm,” Cas scolded, pausing his unabashed screwing to grab Dean’s arm and bend it towards the middle of his back. Not hurting but it sure as hell didn’t feel good, and the spot where Cas’ palm had reddened his asscheek was still driving him nuts. “Do you want more?” asked Cas, his voice breathless.

“Fuck yes,” Dean groaned without thinking.

Cas held his arm in place with one hand and braced his weight on Dean as he wound up and spanked him again, in the exact same spot. It stung, and itched, and Dean craved it. He wanted _more_. Cas started moving in him, slower but steady… and mixed up harder thrusts with sharp smacks against his ass.

He only noticed he was almost hard again when Cas reached beneath his hips and stroked him in between the grabbing and ass-slapping going on.

“Oh… shit,” Dean mumbled, his mouth still open against his forearm. “Gonna fucking come again, jesus…”

Cas released his arm and Dean winced as he let it fall back to the bed, feeling pins and needles race to his shoulder. Before he took his next breath, Cas’ fingers were combing into his short hair. They scratched and gripped, holding a chunk with his fist. Dull pain from the hair pulling only made his erection grow full and stiff.

“Uhhn, Dean…” Cas groaned, pushing in until he bottomed out and then rounded his hips against Dean, trying to wedge in deeper.

Trapped between too many sensations, Dean tried to squirm… tried to combat the various pleasures coming at him from all sides. He loved the pinch of the hair pulling, the cycle of a warm hand jerking him off, and best of all… the rigid sex taking him over and over again. It felt incredible to feel the warmth of Cas’ body deep inside him, and he couldn’t wait to grind his ass back as Cas finished, wanting to make it as good as possible for him.

“Yes,” Cas responded to his thoughts, “Fuck me.” The abrupt command was followed up by a yank of his hair that forced him to lift his head off his arm.

Which meant every groan and rough shout was no longer muffled, but loud and so goddamned pornographic. But he didn’t care, Dean slammed back—his ass smacking Cas’ hips—and cried out as he felt Cas’ erection kick inside him.

“Dean, keep going…”

Fuck, _right_. Dean closed his eyes to concentrate and impaled himself on Cas’ sex. It took less than thirty seconds before Cas started to shout out in choppy grunts as he held Dean still and emptied himself.

In the distraction of his climax, Cas’ hand on Dean’s stiff length had slowed, but the gentle touch combined with Cas’ dick pulsing in him was more than enough to take Dean over a second time. It was less disorienting this round, but still incredible.

When Cas collapsed on him, Dean flattened to the bed under the weight. In a totally uncoordinated move, both of them heaving for oxygen, Cas pulled out and flipped Dean over onto his back.

They were both glistening with sweat, their faces red. But damn it was nice to see Cas’ eyes.

“Hey hotstuff,” Dean mumbled, thinking he could fall asleep on the spot.

Exhausted, Cas shook his head. “No,” he breathed. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, thought Dean. “Man, I’m fucking drained.”

Even though Cas was barely with it, he shook his head again and placed his palm to Dean’s face. “I’m cheating,” he said before Dean felt a sudden jolt of adrenaline. All at once, his muscles were full of energy and his dick was back in the game, hard and ready between them.

What came next was Dean getting a different, vibrating plug in his ass and Cas lubed him up and straddled him, slowly sitting back and taking Dean into him. Dean watched, fixated, as Cas’ mouth fell open with the invasion.

Tight heat surrounded Dean’s sex and he reached back and grabbed hold of the headboard when Cas simply looked down at him, the command not needing to be said aloud.

So he laid there while Cas rode him. And fuck… Cas was gorgeous to watch; the way he leaned back and swivelled his hips in place, tipped his head to his shoulder so he could watch Dean’s eyes stare back at him.

The feverish grip of Cas’ body working over his cock was starting to drive him insane. The burst of energy Cas unleashed on him had been too much, and he was restless, wanting to slam up into Cas’ ass and lose control.

“Do you need…” Cas panted from his exertions, “...need to be… restrained… _dominated?”_

Dean swore and met Cas’ darkened gaze. “Do whatever you want.”

Reaching behind himself, Cas tapped Dean’s knees. “Up.” Complying, Dean raised his knees and planted his feet on the bed, his thighs pressed into Cas’ lower back.

With a gleam in his blue eyes, Cas palmed Dean’s chest, putting pressure as he started to push up and fall back, and Dean wondered if there was more to come. Based on the mischief in Cas’ expression, he should brace himself for anything.

After a few seconds, Cas shifted again, moaning and getting distracted as he moved. Dean smiled, absolutely enthralled by Cas’ slightly uncoordinated repositioning. But he managed, and had untucked his feet by Dean’s sides and braced his weight on the balls of his feet, essentially crouched over Dean’s naked body— _Awesome_.

Just awesome.

But when Cas started to fuck him, with Dean still trying as hard as he could to hold onto the bed frame with sweaty palms, the hands on Dean’s chest moved up to close around his throat.

“Holy fuck, Cas,” Dean snapped to attention, his senses firing off and his heart hammering in his chest.

A new level of turned-on took Dean over and he clutched at the bed as Cas rode him. The angel slowly tightened his grip around Dean’s neck, very gently pinching off the flow of air. Not enough to black him out, but enough to make him writhe.

He wanted to yell and swear, but he was just stunned, falling into some kind of tripped out bliss. Cas fucked himself on Dean’s cock, the bed rocking under them and Dean was seconds away from falling apart.

Clearly out of it, Dean distantly heard Cas groan and warm splashes of come landed all over Dean, including his face, and he just broke… He felt Cas’ grip close around his throat a degree more and he was fucking done.

It was in a strange state of euphoria that he came, barely aware of the individual convulsions ripping through his body, but he felt… high. Like really _really_ high.

It was dark again and he was sure it was because his eyes were closed but he couldn't figure out how those damn eyelids worked, and there was movement. Hmm, Cas was all around him, a warm body curling up into the crook of his arm, fingers tracing his skin.

Cas’ voice somewhere far off, “Made a mess of you.”

Dean hummed and felt Cas’ fingers wiping the come from his face, only to spread it across his lips. Half asleep, Dean licked his lips clean and moaned, loving the way Cas tasted.

He remembered being eased up a little and a bottle of water put to his mouth. Dean drank the whole damn thing and fell back to the bed like dead weight. His legs were spread and his eyebrows bent together wondering if Cas was seriously gonna go another round, but then he realized there was still a subtle vibration between his asscheeks. Gently Cas eased out the plug and turned it off, throwing it somewhere in the room. Cas stretched out half on top of him.

“We should shower,” suggested Cas.

Dean groaned. There was no word, but he knew the ‘no’ came across. _Cheat_ , he thought.

“I don’t want to, I want to scrub you clean myself.”

Ugh. Dean managed to open one eye and saw Cas peering at him. The room was dark and it seriously reeked of sex and come. It also felt like it was four in the morning.

_If you want to get me into a shower, you’re gonna have to carry me and I’m not getting dressed._

“Dean, please… I want to shower with you. No one else is awake, you don’t have to get dressed.”

“Mmngh,” he groused, scrunching his face in a grimace. “What do I get out of this deal?”

“You get clean.”

He snorted. “I’ll sleep dirty, I don’ care.”

“You have come in your hair.”

“I like it that way.”

“And I think some got in your eye…” Cas leaned close and scrutinized his face. “Yes, your eye is turning pink, we should go rinse that out.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Cas. You’re an angel. And you came in my eye!? How did I not notice that?”

Well fuck. He was awake now, and yeah his right eye was kind of burning. Dammit.

Cas giggled, and it was the most adorable thing Dean ever heard… so he pouted. “You were a bit… _unhinged_.”

No shit, he wanted to say. But he was tired as all hell. “Fine. I’ll shower. But I swear, Cas, if you let anything wake me up before dinner tomorrow, someone’s gettin’ punched.”

“Deal.”

Groaning and grumbling, Dean managed to crawl his way off the bed and wind up on two feet somehow. He stood there naked and grumpy.

“Come on,” Cas said, walking over and taking his hand to guide him towards the bunker’s shower room.

Dean didn’t even open his eyes, just bumbled along behind Cas, holding his hand and hoping he didn't fall asleep and smack naked on the floor.

For all his protests though, the second they got under the hot spray of the shower— _FUCK_. So so so so good. Dean turned into a puddle of exhaustion, leaning into the tiles and let Cas wash him as he’d promised. Somewhere throughout the fifteen minutes they were in there, he dozed off. And he didn’t quite remember getting back into bed.

He did remember soft, clean sheets (wherever the fuck those had come from) and a warm damp body next to him throughout the night.

In his dreams, he imagined himself saying yes to Cas, being possessed by Cas’ grace and using their combined power and strength to fight Amara.

Dean didn’t need a stupid book to tell him it would work. It just would. Whatever he and Cas had, it was the absolute opposite to Amara. It was pure, and honest. There was nothing dark in what they had, and there was no way she was surviving the two of them together.

Using their power and Sam’s intelligence—the kid always thinking something up—they would win this fight. Just like they’d won all the others.

When Dean woke up, the plan would be in place. And it would work, and they would triumph. When all would be said and done, the world have Dean’s Cheesemas plan to thank for bringing about the end of the Darkness.

Who knew such an impulsive idea would lead to so many awesome things?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo... How'd ya like it????? 
> 
> And oh fuck, if one of you guys knows how to draw... I can't get the image of Dean in a purple lacy thong splayed out on the bed out of my damn mind!! SOMEONE PLEASE DRAW IT... IM BEGGING! XD

**Author's Note:**

> Despite one big awful moment during this fic, I have soooo loved writing it. Please feel free to come visit me on tumblr:  
> [Cocklesheadboop](http://cocklesheadboop.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Merry Cheesemas


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